Murder In The Night
by Sutter Finicky
Summary: A terror attack has all of the Galactic Republic reeling in hysteria in the middle of the largest civil war in its history. The Jedi turn on their own and it is up to an outcast to clear her name.


The smell of gin violently filled the nostrils of those in the crowded hall. An old time remedy to eliminate perspiration. Donovan Elwin stretches out his hands appear to mimic a man being crucified. "You will not persecute a man by giving him only a gun and not the necessities to live!" Donovan berates the senate, a handful of them in the arena not expecting to take such a tongue lashing. "We send our citizens to war, taking them away from their friends, family, and places of work and when they come home they find themselves unable to take care of their loved ones and their jobs no longer available." Those in the proletariate class leaped off their seats and cheered wildly. The upper class frowned.

"Maybe one day we can elect good people willing to prioritize lives rather than live in a make believe world where the fate of the universe lays in the hands of a bunch of Clones and droids." Donovan quips. He sweats from head to toe. His brilliant red vest is now damp. The large shimmering lights hanging over his head like a guillotine did him no favors. Donovan appeared weak, feeble, but his voice ever strong despite his throat being dryer than a Tatooine desert, and he could swear his back was beginning to ache. He's been up on stage for the last two-hours keeping up the same passion as he began. "It isn't only the banks we are slaves too, but to those gangsters financing those in attendance!"

When Donovan closed his address the split in reactions was easy to see. Nonetheless, the politician was confident in his ability to shame his colleagues into giving the unpaid soldiers their dues.

"This way, Senator." One security guard told Donovan hastily, grabbing his arm. The escort decided it be best to cut through the middle of the arena. A number of would-be assassins tried to slice through the kitchen, only to be deterred. The service tried to convince Donovan not to give his speech as it just make his enemies angrier. He persisted.

"Don't we have another group to meet with?" Donovan asks wryly.

"There's no time, sir." The guard explains him. He shoves people out of the way without remorse, some asking for autographs, some wanting to try their luck and swing for the senator's jaw. The comm otion caused the security guard to reject his planned decision. But where else was their to go? The arena was surrounded by newsman and protesters from both sides of the isle. Where was his backup? He whispers into his collar telling his allies to pick up the pace.

"What happened to Kiko?" Donovan remembered one of the other guard's names. He tries to remember them all, but he's terrible with names.

"I am trying to reach him, sir." The guard huffed, turning his head away from his assignment later to feel the senator's sleeve slip from his tight grip. The words "Death to the Galactic Republic" repeated. Baffled, the guard turns to see what had happened. Donovan had been gravely injured by a blaster shot to the chest and another to his lungs, blood splattered on the security guard's trembling hands. Those around them didn't seem to notice, thinking the crowd caused the senator to merely faint. What had just happened? How did this happen? The mad crowd refused to disperse. Desperate, the security guard bellows out at the top of his lungs. "Medic!" He bellows sorrowfully. "I need a medic!"

The streets in Coruscant's biggest city are drab and miserable, looking ten times worse in the dead of night. The eeriness of the night setting made the toughest of folk flinch at the mere sound of rats scattering across the various puddles spread out on the ground.

But the only sounds that are audible are the boots clapping against the sidewalk. Mykle's chests heaved, each breath harsher than his last.

"How fast is he?" Mykle thought. As he began to slow and labor with each step, his suspect grew quicker and more agile. Scaling fire escapes, Mykle could only climb the slippery iron made steps in an attempt to keep pace. Eventually they've gotten so high up an on-coming speeder almost separated his head from his body. The air began to thin, but Mykle fought off the surging feeling of dizziness.

"Nowhere left for you to run, chump!" He huffs, satisfied his target finally ran out of rope. The poor fellow tries jumping over the fence secluding him to this one area. The fence is too high even for him to pull off. Mykle assured him nothing bad would be done, so as long he'd cooperate. "I have some questions for you."

"You'll never get me to talk." Mykle rolls his eyes. Great, another tough guy. Don't these people know everyone rats each other out sooner or later? They've been conditioned by their overlords to think this isn't the case. But it is.

"You think those you're protecting would do the same for you?" Mykle asked. He approached the cornered man, who began to resemble a scared pet then someone involved in a conspiracy plot.

"I don't even know who it is you want!" He protests, growing anxious as Mykle intended to take him in for questioning. "You're better off killing me."

"I won't be doing that." He says.

"Then I'll die a worse death because of your ineptitude." Mykle is perplexed. "They saw me run, safe to say they've seen you catch me. They can assume now I've spilt the beans to you and will look to shut me up."

"That's why you have to come back with me." The man shook his head, then thought. "I-" before he could answer a stray shot from out of nowhere nicks the poor soul in the neck. Mykle hits the deck. His lead had bit the dust. The second one this month. Every instinct in his body told him to run for it, but he remained stomach first on the ground. A minute goes by, Mykle rose back to his feet and proceeded to loot the man's jacket. A pistol. Empty. It's design far from generic. Sculpted leaves on the barrel, a dewback pin on the grip.

CHAPTER TWO

The last year was anything but smooth sailing for Anakin Skywalker and his Padawan. One day he is stopping the Slave Trade on the planet Kavado. The next day he's winning over the heart of the Zygerrian Queen heading the amoral operation. It was also just recently he thought his Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was lost forever. A pinpoint blast from a sniper hit him in the chest one night on Coruscant on patrol. The Jedi went through all the formalities. They buried Kenobi, administered his last rites and put his weapon on displace. Only... it was all a front. The classic "Gotcha" operation for the Republic to needle themselves into the crime syndicate authoring plans to kidnap the chancellor. Anakin was left in the dark. All those nights he lay awake grieving.

"Master" a high pitched, but kind voice took Anakin out of his self-imposed trance. "We've been sparring for hours, can we please take a break." The tired orange skin Togruta pleaded. Usually Ahsoka was down for extremely long training sessions. Anything that didn't involve concentration or meditation she was willing. Something about Anakin, even when paying half-attention, his methods during this sparring session were more aggressive than what she was used to.

"Huh" His hands are shaking, he just saw it for the first time. Switching off his training lightsaber, he composed himself. "I suppose we've worked hard enough. Let's take a break." Anakin could shake himself out of this daze he's been under the last couple of days. Compounded by the trauma he's experienced in the entirety of his 22-year-old life and the fact he's been overworked in a losing war, his face gained wrinkles under his eyes.

"Maybe you need to rest." Ahsoka proposed.

"That's a good idea." He conceded. "I am going back to my quarters. Will you be-"

"I'll be fine." She cut him off. It's been two whole years since Ahsoka was promoted to apprentice, he still sees her in somewhat the same light when they initially met. An insecure, quiet, yet, snippy 14-year-old grew into a more assertive, confident and outgoing personality.

Ahsoka's stomach grumbled. It was time to eat. Her legs needed a rest too, having been on them all day. She couldn't remember the last time she rested. Her diet consists of fruit, dry toast, rice, meat, and fish. Ahsoka didn't trust the meat in the cafeteria of the Jedi Temple. She couldn't understand during her formative years how her school chums could swallow the rough flesh.

Barriss took her seat directly across from her friend. A yellowish-green skinned Mirialan looked sheepish, abnormal for someone typically comfortable. "Barriss, what's wrong?"

"My Master was killed in battle." She barley contained the growing sorrow within her. "I just found out."

"Oh, Barriss I am so sorry." Ahsoka reached and put a comforting hand on Barriss' trembling arm resting on the table. "If there is anything I can do."

"Not much you can do." She says "Death is a part of life, as Master Yoda said. She's is one with the Force now." Ahsoka nodded. "I better get going."

"You can stay with me." Ahsoka offered. Company would be good for Barriss. People experiencing grief tend to enjoy company. But she shook her head. "No, I'm tired."

Barriss is her closest friend. The only one she can talk to about topics besides Jedi related business. Yet, they haven't seen much of each other the last few months. Despite being just two-years Ahsoka's senior, Barriss was light-years ahead of her. Already Barriss was promoted to Knighthood and lead operations during The Clone War. Ahsoka stood in awe of Barriss' accomplishments, hoping she'll follow suit.

Barriss wanted time alone with her thoughts. Not knowing seclusion was the worst thing for her at this time. Her nerves of steel began to crack, she retreated further into herself. The last time she saw Master Luminara they two exchanged in a spat. The hurtful words Barriss said ran in her head on a loop, growing louder and louder. Rushing to her quarters Barriss did something she never once did since entering the Jedi Temple: she cried.

CHAPTER THREE

It took hours, but finally Mykle found the form he was looking for. A list of people who bought customized blaster pistols of similar design. He found three. Two already bit the dust the last week. So Mykle had to move quick before they got to the last poor fool. Leo didn't look in Mykle's direction as he left or acknowledged his leaving. Having spent time on his while Mykle was searching on his communicator. Time was of the essence. Everything outside moved slower than usual. Mykle bumped into more than one bystander en route to finding the last man.

"'Peaceful Heights', room 319" Mykle went to the elevator, only to find it out of order. So he runs up the creaky steps, their warped shape nearly causing him to fall numerous times. Through his stumbling he reached the room number, the door was slightly open. Uh oh. His worst fears were confirmed upon entry. The third and final buyer of the specific blaster pistol lay dead in his bed. Circumventing the last lead Mykle had.

"Everyone who buys these weapons ends up dead within a weeks time." He recounts his experiences to Cecily, a Ferroan humanoid, with green skin, and white hair that would reach to the floor if it wasn't tied up in numerous neat cinnamon bun like rolls.

"You'll have to be quicker next time." She put rather dry. Mykle stares at her, shocked by her apparent lack of compassion. A softening in her expression notified him she was merely kidding. Kinda. "Mykle, you're trying to uncover a plot to bring down the Jedi Order from the inside. Whomever is capable of dodging the constant surveillance of the Jedi and the Republic, is brilliant and quick enough to tighten any loose ends before they can be exploited."

She was right. Mykle is guilty of adhering to caution. Worried what his impulses would get him into if he followed them. "So we're back at square one?"

"Not quite." Cecily answered, typing away on her new computer that's as thin as a razor. "We do have Leo. And we also have this." She turned the screen to show Mykle.

"Him?" He wasn't too happy to see this familiar face.

"Well it's the only one besides the gun store owner. And Leo is most likely trying to cover himself for unrelated stuff he's doing." She insisted.

"How do you know?"

"Because if he was really a player in this conspiracy, he'd be dead already. Clearly he doesn't know enough."

Defeated, Mykle sighs. "So where is he?"

"The Daily Catch Bar, just two levels below."

Mykle typically enjoyed his experiences at bars. Known to drink, he picked up the habit at a really young age. It all started on night of his ninth birthday. Relatively quiet and somber event. His school chums did not respond to the invitations. Desperate to put a smile on his son's face, Teeto opened up a can of 'Light-speed' brew and shared half of it with him. It helped alleviate the stress, but in the long run it became a crutch Mykle skillfully withheld from showing others.

"Gimme the hardest drink you have, put it on the rocks." He tells the bartender, his eyes survey the landscape searching for a man of Iktotchi descent. Rather unfit. To go a step further he had a pot belly. He spotted two rough skinned, long horned fellows who matches the description. However they spotted two eyeballs. The man Mykle looked for had just one.

Soon he found him. Sitting alone, hunched over a few empty bottles of liquor. Mykle couldn't make out the labels. "Roy" Mykle grabs Roy by the arms shaking him. "C'mon!" Roy jolts awake, looking each direction before setting his eyes on the stranger before him.

"Who... who are you?" Roy's strong, repugnant breath nearly blew Mykle away. "Oh..." The light must've returned to his eyes. "You."

"Underground life not treating you well? It's treating you right."

Roy grumbles "What do you want?"

"Until recently you've been a part of some seedy underground groups. I trust you still have friends in there?" Mykle talked tough, but didn't really have any means besides his words to get him talking.

"Wanna know who is killing Anti-War politicians?" A sly smirk came across his mouth, his throat was dry.

"I'll buy you a bottle if you-"

"200" Roy hurried his response. Mykle for a second believed Roy was asking for 200 bottles of his preferred gin. Coming around quick enough Roy meant he wished for a loan. "Okay... Uh." There was a brief moment needed for Roy's brain to reset. He didn't expect the money to be in his grasp so soon. "The mole in the Jedi Order is realer than cancer. Someone dissatisfied with the war and strongly believes the Jedi have lost their way."

"What are they doing?" Mykle asks.

"Sprinkling some doubt within the establishment. But something big is in the works." Roy informed.

"How big?"

"Could shift the tides of the war." His eyes was deathly serious in its steely gaze. It startled Mykle. The drunk enjoyed the briefest moment of sobriety in telling him this. "You're in over your head. I suggest you drop this before you or someone you care about gets hurt."

"What do you care?" Mykle asks. He was just about ready to leave. He's attained the information he came for. All he wanted was clarity as to what in the universe he was chasing.

"I don't. But I've dealt with this clan in the past and it cost me a great deal. My home. My livelihood." His eyes twinkled, focusing on the now half empty recently purchased bottle. "My wife." Mykle nods knowingly, before ultimately leaving.

"I'll keep that in mind. Thank you."

Leading an operation of ever moving parts was a non stop headache. Yet, when done correctly, it gave her a quite the thrill. Behind the scenes she pulled the strings, she manipulated feelings, destroyed the viewpoints of countless souls just by saying a few words. It was beautiful playing the puppet master. Nobody understood her view. She'd likely pass before she'd see them come around, but she didn't care. Revolutions aren't won overnight.

Mykle could get the details of what is afoot. Getting names wasn't easy. Then the news hit. What began as a normal day radially mutated to constant panic, people ran over one another to get ahead. Mykle didn't know what had happened until he craned his neck up to witness the thick black smoke hanging over hanger bay of the Jedi Temple. Outside of trepidation, the people didn't know how to feel witnessing one of the most fortified areas in the Galactic Republic under attack. The ticker didn't work, so even a basic description of what took place moments ago was unavailable. All they knew was the Jedi Temple was on fire, and there wasn't a star fighter or freighter insight so no one could say for sure this was a mere accident.

Mykle wastes little time returning to Cecily. Unlike himself she wasn't shook up one bit from the sight. She had expected this to happen for months now. After all, General Grievous and the Separatists successfully bombed the Galactic Senate moments before they were to vote to end The Clone War.

"You-" she nods vociferously. Though not shocked, the whole thing did unsettle her considering this whole ordeal is fresh off the grill.

"Usually I'd say we'd better move fast, but I think we're too late." She mourns.

"You think?" He tries to cheer her up with his dry wit he insists he has; she says otherwise. "What do we do?"

"Well..." She refocuses her energy to glue herself back to the chair back to her computer. "I have an insider in the hanger bay of the temple. Perhaps he can hook you up with a pass... or use his?" Mykle was taken aback.

"You know what the penalty is for trespassing on Jedi territory?" He exclaims.

"Ironically, death." She says deadpan. Mykle rolls his eyes, though he's sure she's serious.

"How'd you get this connection?" He wonders.

"He's been interested in me for over a year." She smiles satisfied in her taut good looks. Mykle glare at her, the two wires in his brain connecting. He looked repulsed. He feigns hurling.

"Did you...?" He couldn't even finish what he was going to ask.

"No!" She assures him. "I'm good enough to make sure it never came to that." Equally, she's revolted by the idea. "I can get the necessary materials by tomorrow."

"What-If we don't share the same facial features?" Cecily snorts.

"You don't even look like him!"

"Well how am I supposed to get inside?" He asks modestly.

"Keep your helmet on." She teased. "You wouldn't even have to worry about this if you just called up your connection." Mykle's face turned a lighter shade.

"You know I... we haven't spoken in a long time." He stammers.

"It's only been two months."

"Well that's a long time to me!" He waves off the idea, wishing for Cecily to drop the topic.

When the sound of the blast reached her quarters, Ahsoka was in a deep sleep. Shaken out of her slumber, the cobwebs still prominent she didn't know what it was exactly she heard. Pops are heard all the time late at night. Most of the time it's coming from the exhaust port of a late night transport. However, this wasn't one of those times.

Vociferous knocks followed, still in her daze she walks to the door to see Barriss standing breathing hard. "The.." She sounded hoarse. "The hanger bay is on fire!" Ahsoka rushes to get her lightsaber and follows Barriss to the hanger bay. "I'm going to notify the masters." She tells her and leaves before any questions could be asked. Not that Ahsoka had any.

One blast after another, the air was unbreathable. Black smoke crawled their way into rescuers lungs. There weren't enough gas masks to go around, but it didn't deter those near from helping their fellow man. A true showing of courage in the face of senseless, deranged carnage. When the Jedi showed the job became easier. Removing pillars and ship parts over the bodies of engineers and various workers was easy enough - just as long they didn't look at the damage done to their respective bodies. When the sounds of howling alarms and subsequent sprinklers didn't take up all of the available hearing space, what room left is filled by the moans and groans of poor souls who just lost limbs and unable to move on their own accord.

Anakin showed, as did Kenobi, it was nice to see elder hands assist. The young Jedi were the first to respond. Bless their hearts, they could only do so much before the scene ate at them. Anakin quickly applied a mask to Ahsoka's mouth to ensure she wouldn't succumb to lung poisoning later on. She was about to ask where did he get it when she saw that he wasn't wearing one.

"We need to switch the power off!" Anakin demands an officer.

"Wha-" He was about to decry the order. They couldn't see anything as it is, what with all the black smoke clouding their vision. To turn off the lights would make them blind as a Miraluka.

"We weren't bombed, we've been hacked we are going through a power surge. Switch everything off!" That all made sense to the officer.

They did all they could to save lives and salvage the hanger bay. The lost of the buildings east wing loss them the most in regards of ship quality. The lives loss weren't as dire as the scene prognosticate. Between a dozen to 18 souls perished. Still bad, but there were three times more people suffering under the wreckage who could have easily joined the casualty count.

Anakin didn't let Ahsoka stay too long. Her young eyes, full of innocent naivety wasn't meant for such humanity defying sights. Despite her insistence, it was one of the few times Skywalker put his foot down. Whether he liked it or not, the Padawan saw worse. Child slavery. Torture. Herself was a subject to the horrible practice at one point. She's witnessed and performed a kill in cold blood. Such actions can lead one to the darkest depths of the Force. A conundrum she never could crack. Despite all of this, Anakin saw Ahsoka as the teenager. When he was her age he saw his mother murdered by the savage Sand peoples of his home planet Tatooine. The memory of that alone owns permanent living space in his head.

After a long day of clean up, he was mercifully given a break. Master Windu will takeover. Tomorrow will begin the investigation and who'll head it up. Likely it is to be Skywalker. Kenobi is about to depart on a hunt for General Grievous. His master had recommended Skywalker to investigate the scene when it was the most opportune.

Sneaking away from the flashing lights and watchful eyes of the Jedi Temple, he sunk into the lower depths of Coruscant not too far from his living space. He knocks six times, clear, hard knocks. Standing before him was the tall, stunning Senator of Naboo. Even with a face filled with distress she still looked like an angel from the moons of Iego. "Oh Annie!" She dragged him inside to embrace him tightly. "I was so worried!"

"Me too." He whispers. Her shimmering brown hair down to her chest, a few strands touched his face and it itched. But he didn't mind. They hold their embrace for a good, long time. No words said. What could you possibly say at a time like this? It's better to not say anything at all.

CHAPTER FOUR

Later when the cleaning crew managed to get all the bodies - living and dead - out of the way, the robotic investigators kicked off the fact finding mission prior to any organic appearing. Anakin didn't trust the droid named "RIO." Like all names for droids, it's an abbreviation for 'Robotic Investigation Oversight,' "Why does everything need an anagram?" He asks himself.

"What did you find?" Rio's wide glass eyes stares at Anakin, his circuits registering his identity.

"Whomever did this must've paid attention to detail." Rio begins, his monotone voice wasn't the most soothing sound to hear. "I could not decipher where the bomb was placed."

"What-If it was a suicide bomber?" Anakin inquires.

"Exactly what I was thinking!"

Anakin mouths "They don't make them like they used too."

"What's that?" Rio knew what was said, he just wanted it said again to his face.

"Nothing" Anakin wishes to move on and focus on the more pressing matter at hand.

Meanwhile, Mykle gained entry to the hanger bay. His orange vest over his blue jumpsuit wasn't a sight to behold, more laugh at. "How big was this guy?" Mykle asks Cecily. The suit hung off his body, it's sleeve fell close to his him when either of his arms were stretched out.

"Flea always talked about going on a diet." She shrugged. Hardly a sufficient cover story, right? Well, turns out it was more than sufficient. "Hey, Flea!" Someone clapped their hand on his back harshly as a way to greet him. Mykle kept his helmet on, he only waved and nodded as a way to communicate back.

There's too many investigative officials and Jedi on the scene in the hanger bay. Mykle decided to descend a floor down to the medical room. To say it was cramped would be the understatement of the year. The 8 x 10 room barley was big enough for three patients, let alone a dozen. Mykle approached one man just leaving his treatment, he was given a cane to walk and a patch for his eye.

"Excuse me" He starts off by sounding innocent, like a child asking for a quarter to buy a piece of candy. "I need to talk to you."

"Could it wait?" The wounded fellow wanted to return home and rest.

"Just a moment of your time, sir." Mykle assures.

"Sir?"

"Yes. I-"

"Is that how you address your subordinates, lieutenant?" He eyes narrow, his brow furrows.

"Huh?" Mykle didn't understand.

"That uniform is of a lieutenant." He points out.

"Oh, well yes. But I like to treat my officers with the same respect they give me." A good,

quick save by Mykle that didn't dissuade all doubt from the subordinate, but took the topic of conversation away from what could have blown the lid off his operation. "You were working when the bombing happened, right?" He asks, the man nods.

"I waited for hours for treatment. I refused until my friends were tended to first." He says proudly.

"Did you see anything... quizzical?" Mykle couldn't find a better word. The man thought for a moment.

"There was this coworker, named Jakar. He was about to be laid off in two weeks. Often grumbled his displeasure."

"Where is Jakar?" Mykle's ears perked up.

"He's dead. Died in the blast." Rats! Another roadblock.

"Do you have a picture?" The man goes into his suit pulling out a holographic picture he took with Jakar.

"This was two weeks ago." He shakes his head. "He was so happy."

"Can I take this?" The man was about to say no. Looking at the picture caused him nothing but distress and grief.

"Yeah, take it away." He says curtly.

Jakar looked handsome, certainly vibrant. Descendent from one of dozens of humanoid races, Jakar's alien features came from his bony body, reminding Mykle of those skeletons teachers put on display in anatomy class. Appearing to have a tail, a little curl by his feet in the picture proved his suspicions correct. Funny. Mykle never met anyone with a tail before.

Deciding there wasn't anymore information he could possibly find without compromising his identity, Mykle departs the medical ward heading south back to the hanger bay. The sight reminded him a school reunion. Minus the carnage - of course. Old acquaintances he wanted no part with walking around, fraternizing - not about the mundane parts of daily life, nonetheless the Jedi talked to each other as if part of a special, exclusive club. Mykle could never nail down the language.

Turning a corner, his mask already hanging on a thread almost flew off his face when his body slammed into someone. "Hey!" He barked "Watch where y-" He stops himself upon seeing who it was. It was her. The old acquaintance. An awkward chill runs down his spine, suddenly it was the first day of school all over again. "Oh.. ummm."

"My bad." Ahsoka says, bending down to pick up the holographic image. "An old friend?" She asks. Reclaiming his senses Mykle responds in a gruff tone of voice in an effort to preserve his anonymity..

"Yes." He takes the image and leaves, his cheeks still redder than the moon the night prior to an unbearable heatwave.

Ahsoka watched and scrunched her face, before shrugging. "Ahsoka!" Anakin calls to her.

"Sorry, Master." It was the first day Anakin allowed Ahsoka to tag along. She had so many questions. "Master, I've heard a Jedi potentially could have been behind this." This blindsided Skywalker, he asked for her source. Ahsoka said it was a local news publication.

"I don't think they know more than we do, Ahsoka. But Jedi certainly can fall prey to the Dark Side. Remember Count Dooku and Pong Krell." Rumors are already circulating. This isn't good. Soon people will be lined up outside the Jedi Temple steps protesting because of some feckless conspiracy theory they read from the Dark Web.

Rio informed the two the simulation of the attack is ready, it'll begin in "3...2..1" an extravagant blue, hypnotic blast emerged from the droid's chest area. Holographic recreations of the men blown back from the blast hanging right above Anakin and Ahsoka's heads. Ahsoka's blue eyes caught sight of the initial source of the blast. "Master, come look!" Anakin rushes towards her.

"What did you find."

"The blast... it came from this man's chest." She points at it. His torso in the midst of tearing itself apart, she had to turn away less she risk getting sick.

"Rio, do you know who this man is?" Anakin asks. Rio runs through the databanks of the hanger bay employees the day of the bombing, scanning the holograms to gain facial recognition.

"Jakar Pinson, 33, Mammalian. Worked here for nine-years."

"You got all of that?" Ahsoka sounded skeptical.  
Did this droid gave the records of every employee of the Galactic Republic last and present?

"I have access to every single Galactic Republic employe in this hangar bay." Well, that answered her question.

"Only the hanger bay?" Ahsoka decided to get snippy with the droid in an effort to lighten the mood. A tactic straight out of her master's playbook. A stern look from her master told her stop before the droid complained. She shrugged. "Just saying"

"Can you pull up his information?" Rio already had it ready. The name of Jakar's wife: Letta Turmond, residing in the slums of downtown Coruscant.

"Guess that's where we're heading." Anakin and Ahsoka departed. Not before Skywalker told Rio to keep inspecting the simulation.

"Master are you sure this woman will help us? Or if she's still at the address Rio gave us?" Anakin shook his head, but figured it didn't hurt to try. After all, this is how investigations go. At least for him.

"Keep your eyes peeled, Ahsoka." He tells her. "Looters could have taken the opportunity during the chaos to raid the Jedi Temple or perform their own investigation. Probably how you've heard that rumor a Jedi was behind the attack." That made her stop in her tracks. She thought back to the person she bumped into earlier that day. She hadn't seen anyone in the lieutenant's suit all day besides that one moment.

"Ahsoka?" Anakin notices her stiffening. "You okay?" She snaps out of it.

"Yes. Sorry."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing, Master. Besides how you're probably right."

"I'm always right, Padawan." He laughs softly.

"Yah, don't get a big head, Skyguy." She playfully hits his shoulder.

"I hate that nickname!"

These were his favorite exchanges with his student. Never experiencing what it is like to have a sibling, being an only child born into slavery, Anakin found himself of necessary quick-wit to survive such a relationship.

"You're back sooner than I thought." Cecily said. She was barley up, bags under her eyes signifying a lack of beauty rest. It was a good thing she had a large cup of caf ready.

"I had to get out of there. Too many eyes were on me." Making no effort to hide his paranoia, Mykle resisted Cecily's urging him to rest. "I can't!" He'd fend her off "I'm still no closer to solving who's behind these acts of sabotage."

"What did you find?" Cecily finally inquires about.

"Just this picture, and a name, Jakar." Cecily takes the holographic image. Without warning she walked in the back, it was clear she was making a call. Mykle did not ask for whom, he was too much on edge to even speak. He looked to see the warm cup of caf Cecily just made on the counter. God, he hated the caffeine induced drug, but the smell was out of this world.

Ten minutes later Cecily returned. The way she carried herself so professionally even on short rest was something Mykle really admired. "I called Flea, he said he knew Jakar."

"He did?" Mykle was hoping this lead to somewhere important. Cecily announced that on the previous night she hacked into the security cameras of the hanger bay, stealing the tapes from the day of the attack. From the looks of it the attack seemed to be a suicide bombing. Flea noticed earlier in the day Jakar's stomach was flatter than before, afterwards he saw he was in fact wearing a lead free radiation wrap. What for, he did not know.

"Okay, so your contact is under the impression Jakar is connected in all of this?" All Mykle initially intended to do was have Cecily track Jakar's information down so he could interrogate those who worked in the hanger bay in an environment more friendly to him.

"Flea says the Republic laid off his wife Leeta Turmond the month prior and he was expecting his notice soon. I can give you Leeta's address."

"That's actually why I came here in the first place." Mykle teased.

"Bet you're glad you got more than what you bargained for." Cecily snickered, while sending Mykle the information to his wrist com-link.

"I'm always ready to learn, you know that about me." He gushed about himself, pointing to his forehead and gesturing how large his brain was.

"Think you're referring to your ego." Cecily snapped, adding a roll of her coal black eyes for better affect.

"Oh!" Mykle feigned he was hurt by the comment, his hand covering his heart like he had been shot. "Like I didn't set you up for that." He yawns. It was clear he needed a rest. Days spent rushing from one side of Coruscant to the other took its toll physically on the teenager.

"It's these days I wish I had a boring 9 to 5 job." He sighed.

"You'd really want to do anything besides this?" Cecily asks guffawed, not believing the boy dreamer she knew all these years would accept such an uninspiring life.

"It be easier on my body." He concluded. Shaking his head, he left to find Leta. It was late in the night, the people of Coruscant are good and drunk. Mykle hopes Leta is too, make for an easier interrogation.

CHAPTER FIVE

The party never stops on Coruscant. Even after a terrorist attack. The music pulsates against the walls, people drank themselves silly like nothing had happened earlier this morning. A couple of fights broke out between strong armed hooligans for good measure. Mykle loved a good drink, the revolting scenes playing out made him want to swear off the sauce for good.

Leta stood behind the bar, quietly cleaning off the same mug for nearly ten minutes. A black mark, probably a tattoo under her eyes that were giving off a thousand yard stare vibe. Mykle waited for her to stop and come over, but she just stood still as if rooted to the floor. Come to think of it, the floors here are so sticky she just might've been.

"Leta Turmond?" Mykle loudly asks for her. She turns, giving a jolt like being awakened from a deep slumber.

"Yes..." She stammered. "What can I-"

"I need to talk to you about your husband. Can we go somewhere private?" When Leta hesitates, Mykle pulled out his trusted counterfeit badge. "Galactic Republic business." That seemed to back her up to the wall, as she relented and told her superior she was going on a smoke break. He followed her to the break room.

It's a cramped area, a narrow open window is the lone source of natural air. Mykle saw Leta grab her bag and without asking he snatched it. When she protested Mykle told her, in his tough guy voice, the Republic declared a "state of emergency" and he didn't need a warrant to do this. Splattering her materials on the table, his hands shifting through breath mints and energy drinks. And then there was the kelly-green disembodied hand. Mykle suppressed the urge to let her tough guy exterior fade, though it nearly did. He merely stared at Leta, lost for words.

"Okay!" Leta broke, or so he thought! She stopped herself and produced a electroshock weapon, strings bursting in energy wrapping themselves and piercing themselves into Mykle's skin causing his arms and hips to instantly bleed after searing through his clothing material. Leta climbed through the window, leaving behind her bag - and the hand.

"Ugh!" He finally said after the electricity stopped burning his body. "I'm bad at this!" He wouldn't be able to climb up to the window without pushing the table against the wall to as a booster. Not that it mattered, as Leta was already out of sight. Mykle kicks up dust, his frustrations grew. No matter what he did, his leads either ended up dead or escaping. Looking down to stare at the disembodied hand, Mykle wastes little time rushing back to Cecily to run a diagnostic on the piece of flesh. He's much rather have Leta in tow, than this dried bloody stump.

Cecily didn't even flinch when Mykle gave her hand. Her eyes didn't widen, there wasn't even a question of where did he get it. She just asked "What do you want me to do with it?"

"Run a diagnostic." Mykle didn't miss a beat, retreating to the washroom to tend to his wounds. Turns out Cecily didn't need to run a diagnostic, only a simple scan was needed to find nano-droids injected into his bloodstream.

"Looks like you found the bomb!" Cecily told him. "Fascinating." She says breathlessly.

"What's so 'fascinating' about a suicide bomber?" Mykle asks.

"Not that," She never thought the act of sacrificing oneself to make a statement was as romantic as the stories made them out to be. "Look at the screen. Jakar's body accepted enough nano-droids to blow up five city blocks. How he didn't succumb to ration poisoning is beyond me."

"Right..." Mykle wished for Cecily to stop admiring the dogma and give him the next lead.

"Of course, the mind is a powerful organ." She titters.

"What so funny?"

"Well, maybe Jakar didn't know what was in his body?"

"You think Leta put him up to it?"

"I think it's fair to assume." Mykle walks out, wasting no time throwing on his burned jacket.

"Where are you going? She asks, just noticing now his wounds and the fact he walks with a limp.

"I'm going to find Skywalker." He tells her.

"You know he wants nothing to do with you." She reminds him.

"Yeah? Me neither, but desperate times call for..."

"Unwanted company?" She snorts, he merely nods and departs. "It's going to take you days to find them, they Jedi won't let you inside the temple."

"They gotta go on patrol one of these days." He says point blank. Cecily hemmed-and-hawed about Mykle's apparent ability to only plan from the seat of his pants.

Anakin and Ahsoka were on patrol, they had a name already in mind. It's been two-days, the Jedi already found Leta and brought her in for questioning. Mykle had heard about this. They allowed her to walk away after answering a couple of questions - he doubts they were the right ones. For Mykle knew he had the trump card... or hand, to be exact.

Finally, Mykle's eyes set sight on a Jedi - and the Jedi he was particularly interested in finding. What luck!

Utilizing a voice modulator he got as a gift for Life Day when he was seven-years-old, Mykle held the unit to his throat. "You're at a loss!" He began to get their attention. He didn't think there was any deeper meaning to what he said, he wasn't even sure if they were "at a loss." He figures since he already had the semi-threatening, deep-voice, he might as well choose the most powerful words he could think of.

"Yeah?" Anakin, typically headstrong and quick to his hip, didn't flinch one bit. His senses tipped him something was amiss. "Who asked you?" Mykle responded by throwing the disembodied hand and a holographic image of the forensics ran by Cecily.

"Leta feed her husband nano-droids, the question is who supplied her with them?"

"You think she set her husband up?" Ahsoka doubted this seemingly disembodied voice knew all the details the Jedi knew. Feeling threatened, her hand slowly moved towards her shoto-lightsaber, Anakin silently urged her to remain calm.

"It's safe to assume," Using Cecily's terminology always made Mykle feel smarter - course, he'd never tell her that. "But there's bigger fish to fry. Ask Leta who's supplied her with the stuff. Act now before she - WHOA!" A sudden gust of wind knocks him off the fire escape where his footing rescinded. Falling flat on his back, voice modulator out of hand, Ahsoka stood smirking. "Ow!" Mykle coughs. From that point on, the mysterious facade faded and upon closer inspection they found it was the biggest pest they've ever met.

"Oh." Anakin was about to scold his Padawan for acting rash, but seeing who it was she pushed he couldn't help but laugh at little at the teenager's misery and pain.

"Nice job." He says dryly, approaching Mykle who was still on his back. He kneeled and offered a hand to help him up. "Long time no see."

Dusting himself off, Mykle held his hand behind his back to ease the pain. "Ugh!" He grits his teeth. "Couldn't let me have this, Tano!" He snapped, then sighed. "It's good to see you." He finally says.

"Likewise."

"Yeah, 'likewise." Anakin began to walk away.

"Hey!" Mykle rushes to get in the way of Anakin's path. "What about what I just told you?"

"We'll take it into consideration, thanks." Anakin gently moves Mykle to the side, but the teenager stays not far behind, continuing to plead his case.

"You have to be careful," he advises. "Leta is panicking, probably planning to go on the lamb."

"And how did she get away from you?" Ahsoka then asks.

"I...uh..." Mykle stammers, searching his brain for a clever quip or blatant, but believable lie to save face. "She shot me with an electroshock pistol." He utters under his breath, still loud enough for them to here. Anakin rolls his eyes. "Come on, let me come with you. Be an extra hand."

"Sorry. This is strictly Jedi business." Anakin shoots his offer down.

"But I was a Jedi!" Mykle points out.

"'Was'" Ahsoka reminds Mykle.

"Regardless, I have respect and knowledge of how Jedi usually handle these affairs and I can tell from my experiences this'll end badly." Mykle lists off the the missions gone awry.

"'Plan A' never works!" Anakin retorts. "You have to adapt. Which is why you didn't make it." The critique was harsh, leaving a mark on Mykle's already fragile ego. It was at that moment Mykle's frustrations bubbles and began to pulsate, he wanted to smash Skywalker's face in for his pompous attitude. It's all his fault they're in this mess to begin with. Alas, it isn't the time nor place for such action. Deep down, Mykle also knew he was no match for Skywalker's superior strength and his fist wouldn't even sting his iron jaw.

"You need me!" He bellowed to a unflinching Skywalker.

"Please, tell me more." He briskly walked past Mykle, who flipped the Jedi Knight the bird when he wasn't looking. "I seen that!" Unfortunately, he has eyes in the back of his head.

"What's your problem?" Ahsoka argued. "What makes you think he'd let you come along?"

"There's a mole inside the Jedi Order plotting to take you down and I-"

"ENOUGH" Ahsoka had heard enough to make a judgment that Mykle was back on the sauce. "You need help."

"I need your help and vice versa."

"We'll let you know when you're needed." Ahsoka said, equally as dismissive as Skywalker. Her attitude stung the most. They used to be children of the same cloth. Almost inseparable. Best friends. Now, it's as if he were acting on the side of the bad guys.

And just like that, Mykle's mission was over. The higher ups had come, taken his information and basically told him to return to the sandbox. Now he knew how Skywalker and Tano felt when told they're about to be relieved from their duties. But it couldn't end here. One way or another, he's going to find a way to be like gum on the bottom of their boots and never quite really leave.

"It's these particular moments I wish I had the ability to scale buildings to follow them from above." Albeit, their Jedi senses would probably tip them off to his shenanigans. Mykle tried really hard to keep his distance, they still caught on to his attempts to latch on to their patrol. It almost made Ahsoka feel sorry for him. As for Skywalker, he contemplated turning Mykle in it questioning. Anything to get him out of his hair.

"You really don't get it when I say this is 'Jedi Business.'" Anakin let his irritation be known.

"I'm not ashamed" Mykle starts to explain, suppressing the urge to feel shame. "I wouldn't be doing this if I wasn't concerned about your wellbeing." He then looked at Ahsoka, as if to say "Don't think I've forgotten about you."

Anakin rolls his eyes again, an expression frequently used by people Mykle talks to. "You can come along, but don't talk so much!" Mykle does a contained fist-pulp to celebrate. "Ahsoka, keep an eye on him."

"Yes, Master." Ahsoka found herself caught in the middle of exchanges between the young, banished Jedi apprentice and the accomplished Knight. "What is it with you two?" She asks Skywalker.

"While we were trying to save the Chancellor from a kidnapping, Mykle was trying to 'expose' him for being the Sith causing the fall of the Jedi Order." Anakin scoffed every time he brought the subject up. The Chancellor is an old, feeble soul constantly in need of protection. Though cunning enough to provide such a facade, there's no indication Palpatine is more than just an over ambitious politician.

"I've heard." Ahsoka recounted the rumors she heard through various sources, albeit unreliable. Some said Mykle directly encountered the Chancellor with the accusation of being a Sith. Various murmurings went as far to claim he managed not only to unmask the experienced politicians sinister plot, but best him in battle... Mykle liked that story the best.

"But He was tried and penalized for his actions. The Jedi Council stripped him of his connection to the Force." Ahsoka told Skywalker.

"It was either that, or a longer stay in prison." Anakin asserted Mykle's choice was the cowards way out. Again, he tells Ahsoka to keep a close eye on Mykle, she reluctantly falls back and is forced to rekindle an old friendship that's been doormat for sometime.

"By the way," Mykle had overheard the twos conversation. Even with just one ear he could still hear from a distance somewhat. "I've been wanting to shut myself off from the Force for nearly a year before then." He explains. This shocked Ahsoka. All she's known her entire life is the Jedi and their mystical ways, the people - especially the youngsters fawn over them and want to be them. Who up and quits being a Jedi?

"Right after your Master died?" Ahsoka interjected, in that split second she was unaware what hearing that name would do to the boy's heart. His eyes twinkled, they widened slightly. Enough for her to notice.

"Yeah." He confirms solemnly.

"Tera wouldn't have wanted you to quit." She tells him.

"But I did." He snaps.

From there on, until they arrived at Leta's apartment there wasn't anymore speaking from anyone. "Hello?" He knocks on her beat up door to her sleazy motel quality room. "I don't think she's home." Anakin thought for a moment, he figured it be best to just wait for Leta to return. Mykle, of course, had better ideas. Taking his blaster, equipped with silencer, he shot the cheap data pad to pieces, opening the sliding door slightly - enough for Skywalker to push it the rest of the way, with the help of his robotic left arm. "Breaking and entering, really?" Anakin scolded.

"What? You wouldn't do it?" Mykle knew Anakin's rash methods, something he admired from him. A lot of that in fact rubbed off Ahsoka. It's what drove Mykle to try and be more planned in his style. Being away from them for so long made him eventually drop the strategy.

"No, because I'm not a criminal!" Anakin growls. It took Ahsoka stepping in the middle of them to stop the bickering.

"We have bigger things to take care of." She reminds them.

"She's right," Anakin relents. "Ahsoka, cover the bed room. I'll take this area."

"What about me?" Asks Mykle.

"You get the washroom." Anakin says dryly.

"Oh!" He pretends to laugh so hard, he threw his head backwards "So funny! Like always, Annie."

"Hey!" Once again, Ahsoka had to interject, or risk the two coming to fisticuffs. This was exhausting for her, to feel like a babysitter. Quite frankly, this is the only time she's felt Anakin was in need of someone to wrangle him in.

Not too long later, Mykle stumbles across what appears to be Leta's workstation. He couldn't be sure. Oh, how he wished for a name tag to be pasted anywhere on the scratched up, messy desk. Actually, the Jedi had Jakar's fingerprints on file, calling to Ahsoka - he could stand to ask Anakin for any assistance - she compared the fingerprints from Jakar to that on the desk. "None of them match." She says, astonished as it seems Jakar literally never laid a finger on the desk.

"Which means this has to be Leta's." Mykle could say with confidence. "It's becoming likelier Jakar was a mere pansy."

"How can you honestly assume that if all we know is Leta did most of the work with that-" her detector went off immediately.

"Nano-droids?" Mykle let a sly smirk show on his face, he was being proven right. Ahsoka called for Anakin to clarify. He confirmed her suspicions.

"Nano-droids?" He said breathlessly. "How could've she gotten her hands on that advanced tech? The Jedi don't just leave them lying around."

"What are you doing here?" They turn around to find Leta shaking in her boots, putting up the scared little girl act Mykle wouldn't buy. His question was either Anakin would, he didn't see the side of Leta who wouldn't hesitate using force to getaway.

"Why are your fingerprints on this desk covered with nano-droids?" Anakin asks. She stammers, her eyes darting left to right.

"I..." her expression then hardens. "You have no right to sneak into my room without a warrant!"

"you had no right to attack me either." He reminds her. "Answer the question, Leta." Mykle sternly tells her. "I don't want to ask again." He slowly approaches her.

"Okay!" She finally broke. "I fed Jakar the nano-droids. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Mykle couldn't help but take satisfaction he was right - and more importantly Anakin was dead wrong.

"You set up your own husband to die?!" Ahsoka was repulsed by the action. How could someone do that to their spouse? "You know how many people died?"

"Do you know how many people are killed because of you Jedi?" Leta spits back, though she began to backpedal suggesting fickleness.

"Leta, come with us. You'll be safe." Anakin senses Leta isn't only worried about facing a Galactic Republic courtroom for her actions, someone wanted to keep her quiet. "Who are you working for?" Leta stands still for a moment, her hands dipping into her fanny pack wrapped around her waist. Ahsoka was about to go for her lightsaber, Anakin tells her to stop and the next second grey smoke fills the apartment, all that is heard is Leta's faint, heavy breathing.

"She's gone!" Ahsoka states the obvious, while Mykle wastes no time rushing after her. Payback is on his mind for last time. Soon Anakin gives chase, before he does he tells Ahsoka to notify the Jedi to send investigators to Leta's apartment. The elevators were out of order, Leta jumped down six flights of stairs to hasten her escape. Mykle, even as a Jedi, was never that limper. She beat Mykle down to the bottom floor, smashing through the door, stumbling down the stairs.

"LETA!" Mykle calls for her. Ditching her purple hat, Leta attempts to blend into the crowd. "Leta!" He calls for her again.

"Where did she go?" Anakin asks, finally making his way down. Usually pretty quiet, the slums of downtown Coruscant left little breathing room, even the airships took up space. No one could even stretch their arms out for a second without hitting something or someone.

"I don't know." He confesses. "Let's split up." There wasn't much deliberation, possibly because there wasn't any time to. Mykle's stomach sank once his company dispersed. Knowing his luck, he'd come face to face with Leta and have to slug it out against a taller, more desperate opponent. Mykle was a bad fighter; he'd never fancy himself as one.

Ahsoka went downtown to search. Skywalker hung out in the more dangerous slums of lower Coruscant. Meanwhile, Mykle went south surveying the taverns and convenient stores. Maybe Leta was hiding behind the aisle where the shopkeeper kept the potato chips? He made himself laugh at the thought, why was it so funny a terrorist taking refuge behind rations made him giggle, he did not know. Maybe he was just tired.

About ten-minutes into the chase Mykle realized he had no real way of contacting Skywalker or Ahsoka if he does come into contact with Leta. Most likely, they'll find her and not tell him, leaving him behind once again. Out of the two scenarios his brain concocted, the most cynical one seemed the likeliest.

"Leta!" He calls for her like a lost kitty cat. "Here, Leta Leta Leta." He sounded ridiculous. In his defense, Mykle had no idea how these events usually played out. Tera didn't trust him to be alone for an extended amount of time. Keeping him in relative safety.

Dipping into an alleyway between liquor stores, Mykle wished he had remembered his pistol as his anxiety heightened as the outside noise decreased. A faint sound of trash cans banging against one another briefly took his attention, Leta sprung from the shadows and delivered two closed fists atop his spine. Crashing to the floor, the commotion caused by the thud caused those nearby to halt exactly where they stood. It wasn't until they heard the following, more forceful slam did they rush away, most likely to get the attention of authorities.

"You again?!" Leta gasps. They lock hands in a struggle for control, Mykle's scrawnier arms eventually cost him footing. Gritting his teeth, Mykle delivered a head-butt that significant staggered Leta, and gave her a powerful nosebleed. Enraged, she pounces atop Mykle like a hungry panther pounding away at his face until his cheeks began to swollen.

Flipping them over, Mykle tried to exact revenge, but his attempts at inflicting punishment to her facial area was rebuffed. He slips, but delivers a blow to her torso, cracking a rib or two. He felt the bones crunch underneath his fist. Leta hisses. "That's the best you can do, Jedi?" She almost chuckled. Undeterred, Mykle propped her up and continues working her body. When she eventually pushes him away, he notices how slower she is in her movements. Being a bit of a slowpoke himself, this evened the playing field in Mykle's eyes.

"You are wanted for questioning, please come quietly and nobody gets hurt." This, of course, ignores the fact Leta had already been hurt. But, such sayings are customary in these mostly hectic procedures.

"I do not trust the Jedi have my best interest at heart!" Leta choked out, spitting specs of blood caught between her yellow teeth.

Using the brief moments of silence, Leta hit Mykle with a trash can top. Perfectly throwing it like a disc, hitting him square in the forehead, wasting little time she charged like a bull and the back of his head hit the wall. He fell face first, his body in the early stages of shutting down yet again.

"Better luck next time, Jedi." Leta sneers. Mykle never did correct her about the whole "Jedi" thing.

Leta limps off, while Mykle fights to get back to his feet. They must've looked like an old married couple in the middle of a spat to the onlookers passing by, the way Mykle stalked Leta it certainly looked like he was on the receiving end of a cold shoulder.

"They'll kill me before they let me speak!" Leta tells him. Such words should have gotten the attention of those around them. It didn't.

"We won't let that happen." Mykle promises.

"You Jedi aren't known for keeping your promises." She retorts. They reached a transport station, hobbling up the stairs to the platform. To Mykle's relief, the transport hadn't yet arrived.

"Leta!" He calls to her. "We'll protect you!"

"You can't!" She holds her right side, where the broken ribs are. The pain was so intense that she wanted to throw up right there.

"Yes, they can!" He was hoping the use of "they" in lieu of "we" would hint her to his standing with the Jedi. Alas, it fell on deaf ears.

"You don't understand. This goes deeper than just some criminal sitting alone at a bar. This is an operation ran without error." Leta was starting to make Mykle think this was all the work of the Chancellor. This aroused him. Before he could ask anymore questions, Anakin caught up to her and snuck up a pair of handcuffs to her wrists.

"Leta Turmond, you are under arrest for conspiracy and resisting arrest." Anakin sternly said, as he led her off without acknowledging Mykle was in plain sight.

"Hey, wait!" Mykle limps towards the Jedi, his head pounding. Mykle thought he'd blackout at any moment. "She was about to confess to who's behind all of this."

"And?" Anakin leers at Leta.

"I don't know who's behind all of this." She tried to decipher whom, since her apparent jail sentence depended on it.

"Anakin!" Mykle stops Anakin from leaving once again. "Keep watch on Leta, she isn't the first lead I've found. Numerous ones have ended up dead. You can't let this one get away." For once, Anakin looked at Mykle like he had said something intelligent.

"Thanks for the warning." He said genuinely. "Ahsoka, I've found and apprehended Leta. Meet me at the transport station-" Mykle supposed this was his cue depart the scene. After all the work he's done on this case, he's handing it over to higher authorities who have little interest in his findings. To them, he's an outcast, rogue, failed Jedi apprentice.

CHAPTER SIX

Padme seen just about everything. Death. War. Epic political strife. She was relieved to be whisked away from battlefield duties after one-year of service and to return to her political position as senator of her home planet of Naboo. One less concern on her plate. She didn't want to command a war she fought endlessly to end.

"This war costs more than it's gained the people of the Republic." She spoke to the Chancellor, he looked to be lacking interest in her constant pleas at developing a peace deal. "Everywhere I look there are banks closing, breadlines long as far as the eye can see."

"I assure you senator, we are doing everything we can to accommodate our vulnerable citizens." The chancellors tries to soothe the senators concerns. She saw through this facade, aware these were mere symbolic gestures.

"And what about the army occupying the senate building?" Labeled as "The Credit Army," veterans that were not Clones served their prescribed time in the Republican military and served bravely in many battles. Now, in times of economic strife they wanted their money. "It's been a month. You said you've whipped up the votes for my bill to pay out the benefits you specifically said would be given to them prior to the war starting."

The Chancellor seemed unperturbed, like he merely forgotten the issue. "As you know many in your party and mine are strict fiscal conservatives."

"That's no excuse." Padme responded curtly. "You made your promises, you'll have to keep them or risk riots." The protesters were already restless, symbolically threatening representatives they knew had little sympathy for their cause by pointing their fingers at them like it were a blaster.

"The people need more. Didn't you hear about the tent cities sprouting all around Coruscant?"

"We are spread far too thin propping up this war, Ms. Amidala. I'm sorry there isn't much I can do besides convert some abandoned warehouses into homeless shelters." Palpatine's stare is cold, lacking compassion. Seeing this was a loss cause, she up and left the chancellor's office. A strike hit her heart, for it was her, then young and impulsive who put this man in a position of power.

This was all her fault, she wouldn't let herself off the hook no matter what anyone told her. This war was her fault. Everything was her fault. A black cloud hung over the senator's head it might as well have been a guillotine inching closer and closer to her neck.

Mykle shared Padme's feeling, except the razor was nearly pressing against his copper skin. Leta was in custody, but would the Jedi ask the appropriate questions? Would they be smart enough to keep her under their watch regardless of whether she wished to remain in such condition? Surely they knew Leta was good as dead once she left the Jedi Temple.

Mykle needed a drink. More importantly, he needed an aspirin for his pulsating pain in his back.

Anakin remembered all the names of the Jedi he's served with and subsequently watch die during The Clone War. One name he remembered, but wasn't with, was Marc Cink, an older, but jovial Jedi Anakin admired greatly for striking the perfect balance between a stern demeanor and a love for the extravagance in life. "What's the use of being doom and gloom all the time? That's because there isn't any." Anakin took those words to heart, it's something he'd have engraved on his lightsaber if there was enough room... and if the Jedi would let him customize his weapon. Having it engraved on the tombstone of his dear friend would have to suffice. Cink was the only Jedi causality of the hanger bay bombing.

Through the one-way mirror he watched Leta seated, contemplating her next move. Anakin wanted to anticipate what she'd say, counteract it and get her to sing like a bird. He had to admit, Mykle did him a huge service assisting them finding Leta.

"She's been waiting for a while, Master." Ahsoka snapped him out of his deep state of thought. Telling by the expression on her face, she meant the remark in a tongue and cheek manner.

"How rude of me." He played along. Something to lighten up the dour mood.

Leta did it look up, her listless facial expression did not change upon seeing the two Jedi. "You're in a lot of trouble, Leta." Anakin explains. "But if you help us your punishment will be lightened considerably."

"I'm better off rotting in your prison." She sighed, her own feeling of hopelessness coming across to Skywalker on the opposite side of the table. "The extremists are right under your nose, if you cannot find them now you'll never spot them even after I tell you all you need to know."

"What do we want to know?" Ahsoka's curiosity is peaked at Leta's choice of words.

"The troublemaker you're looking far is undoubtedly a female, someone who's walked the line between light and dark." Leta began, judging by her stammering Anakin did not know whether Leta was giving actual information or conjecture.

"I need more to go on." Anakin told her.

"I haven't had a chance to pick her brain, but i could tell she believes the Jedi have lost their way." Leta continued to look down, a chill running down her spine causing her to shiver.

"Look at me." Anakin demanded. She did. There's tears in her eyes, her shakier voice should have tipped him off her emotions have gotten the best of her. "I know this is a stressful time, but we need to know crucial facts. Such as, were your services bought or did you enlist?"

"Enlisted." Leta told him. "You've become warlords, she feels the same way."

"I can imagine." Anakin wasn't too shocked to hear Leta was particular anti-Jedi. All this dripping of information at a malaise pace was eating away at his patience. Clearly Leta did not know whether to give away the entire game. "You'll remain here for further questioning." Anakin internally was grateful Palpatine suspended basic rights his peope have fought for generations ago basically doing away with due process with a strike of his war powers granted to him by an emotional senate.

"You want to risk Leta getting herself a lawyer?" Ahsoka asked once they left the room. Anakin was unconcerned.

"She can't afford one." He says bluntly.

"How do you know?"

"Even if she could, the Chancellor wouldn't allow her a defense. She's cornered." Anakin was pretty satisfied he had a route to obtain crucial information. Rather than just chasing wild banthas.

"Have you talked to Barriss?" Anakin felt for the young Knight, he liked Ahsoka and her we're friends and she was helping her get through this turbulent time.

"No. I haven't seen her in over a week." Ahsoka confessed.

Some nights the memories blissfully receded. But the following day's inactivity allowed his mind relive on the fateful day his master Tera Tilden fell to a stray blaster bolt to the heart in the battlefield. It all moved so fast. One minute Mykle is living the life he read only in fantasy books, traversing the galaxy fighting for truth and justice. The next, he was watching his mentor breathe her last.

Mykle privately professed he'd be nowhere without Tera. Quickly he proved himself right. Within two months after her death the Jedi did not know what to do with Mykle. Nobody else wished to take up a Padawan they deemed a "project" and he was to be sidelined for the rest of his days in the order. His last adventure however, sparked great uncertainty in his already frail mental state. An ominous being calling himself "The Son," later defined by his father as the Force Wielder of the Dark Side, borrowed his way into Mykle's consciousness sowing the seeds of distrust and conspiracy.

He swears to this day The Son showed him the future. Before his eyes misty, but clear vision played before him. Countless dead, men, women and children bleed at the hand of a blue lightsaber wielding foe, thought to be friends. The monster's face was hidden by a hoodie. His master Mykle made out easy. It was the Chancellor telling his apprentice to rise, calling him "Darth Vader." This caused Mykle to nearly have a heart attack, he rushed to Coruscant to accuse the chancellor of treason only to be laughed at and then imprisoned, subsequently banished from the order.

To make matters worse, on that dreaded hellscape The Son dug deeper into Mykle's mind replaying the fateful event of his master's death over and over. She did not speak as her chest heaved harshly and blood trickled down her cheek. All Mykle could read was her eyes, they looked tearful, downright, but not for herself. Tera wept for her apprentice. Aware he didn't have much of a future to look forward to after she is gone.

Mykle's never been able to fully extinguish The Son from his mind. Though slain at the hands of Kenobi, The Son still lived on in Mykle's memory. He sought counsel from Yoda, he was no help. He even visited a therapist, only to be given pills for his troubles. At a loss, Mykle turned to the drink finding some solace in the sweet nectar that turned him dumb. He only tried therapy because Cecily recommended it, says it helps her. How is it people can spontaneously open up to a stranger if that person says they are a "certified professional" to hear their problems?

Getting up from his futon, stretching his back, groaning so loud he possibly perturbed his neighbors, Mykle hastily made himself a glass of cheap, hard Coruscant ale and gulped it down without issue. He did this twice more, as a result the room became a blur and his brain sought sleep rather than refuge from the dark monster looking to take advantage of his feeble mind late into the night. Hardly the way a 16-year-old is expected to spend his off-day.

His off-days aren't as advertised. Privately Mykle lived dodging certain eyes. Low on funds, far too much pride to borrow from friends, he racked up substantial debts. How he was to pay these debts off was beyond him.

It's been weeks since he's left his 90 feet apartment from the front door, hoping out of the window and scaling the fire escape every morning to avoid detection from watchful eyes.

He left his home earlier than usual. Eventually they'd find him and he'd have to move again. Maybe he can scrounge up together enough to leave Coruscant? No. No more running! Mykle told himself this before, only to amount to nothing. This time though, he followed up on his self declaration. He wasn't a bad driver and could offer his services to seedy individuals in need of a getaway driver. He made sure the boss understood he wasn't going to help anyone kill or getaway with murder. Preferring to assist in the act of breaking and entering.

"I don't know where you get off making demands, especially in the state I know you're in." Mr. Blair laughs, chomping on his death stick. The smoke makes Mykle cough slightly. He hated those things. How could people willfully smoke something that labels itself a bringer of death? "Where are my manners, you want one?" Mr. Blair asks, handing Mykle a stick. He accepted and took a puff. Oh, but the deathly drug felt so good in his throat.

Mr. Blair is a short fellow. Grey hair down to his back, it fit his skeleton looking body. Seeming to be little meat on his bones it's a wonder how someone as scrubby as Mr. Blair got to lead a minor crime syndicate. Simply, he wasn't afraid to cut a couple of throats to get ahead or to keep his seat. Push the dog enough and he'll show you his sharp teeth.

In an hour, Mykle had driven miles from the city to the more rural parts of Coruscant rarely explored. With him are two men, Nathaniel and Sanford, both Zabrek their skin blood red. Reminded Mykle startlingly famous Sith apprentice Darth Maul. Only difference was they lacked the distinguishable black tattoos.

Words weren't exchanged between the three. Once they were officially briefed and knew their objective, there wasn't anything to say. All there was left was to do. Soon they arrived, parking behind the building to keep their anonymity.

"Where is it?" Mykle asks. All he saw was an abandoned construction sight. "Blair didn't tell us to go here just to see the ruins of a Republican industry." Judging by the assembly lines the factory must've made parts for ships before industry shut down and moved to the bigger cities.

"No." Sanford sneered. "Nathaniel, give me a hand!" Moving the incredibly heavy cover from its area, the hollowed out floor, they sent Mykle down first. Switching on his flashlight Mykle saw explosives, so much it makes the Separatists armory envious.

"There's enough to blow up a Venator-class Star Destroyer!" Mykle's jaw hit the floor. "What does Blair want with this?"

"Take what we need." Sanford told Mykle before sending Nathaniel down to join him.

"'Excuse me?"

"Mr. Blair told us to only take the barrels labeled 'B-81B.'" He told them. Mykle turned to grab one of the barrels. When he wasn't looking Nathaniel withdrew his pistol, set it to stun and swiftly knocked Mykle into unconsciousness. "You have an awful lot of people looking for you." Nathaniel chuckled, blowing the smoke off the barrel of his gun.

"He can't hear you." Sanford told him.

"I know!" Nathanial retorted, his blood boiling

Cecily found herself glued to the broadcast of the local news. Once the anchors had a remotely interesting story unfolding they dive headfirst in relentless and endless coverage, despite details coming out rarely. What is it they know she doesn't know? Cecily waited for the anchors to say the name of Leta's husband. They didn't. She waited for one of them to touch on the subject of the underground terrorist group taking down the Jedi Order from the inside. No word on that either. The most basic, menial details repeated to keep ratings from returning to the gutter.

It was this moment Cecily wished she had more friends besides Mykle to talk about this sort of stuff. Mykle didn't care about the news enough to dissect how bad they are at their jobs. Self-described as apolitical, Mykle's only opinions he shared was his belief in every person in the galaxies right to possess firearms.

"Where is Mykle?" Cecily thought to herself. Her attempts at reaching him fell on deaf ears. It's been two-days since she last saw him. She was getting worried. Aware he had plenty of enemies eventually the past would catch up to him, Cecily began to believe it already had.

Deciding to venture to his apartment, the door was open despite nobody being inside the room. An open liquor bottle caught Cecily's eyes first. "He's fallen off the wagon." She said sorrowfully. And he was doing so well. Underneath his bed are his trustworthy pistols, course he only took one with him at all times. Frequently, he'd point out how it's impossible to keep two hands still to simultaneously fire the guns.

A rattling outside the window caught Cecily's attention. Rushing towards the open window Cecily saw a man scaling down the first escape in a hurry to get far away. "Hey!" Cecily called for him to stop, but he didn't. Seeing no other alternative, Cecily hopped out and gave chase. Tackling him the moment his feet touched the ground.

"Who are you?" She sat on his chest, roughly grabbing his shirt collar to bring him within an inch of her face.

"Who are you?" The man spat back, his teeth grinding against each other. "This isn't your business." Cecily, begged to differ. "I am a debt collector and the man who lives here owes my bosses money." Realizing this was one of the crime bosses lackeys Mykle had a history with, Cecily tried to hide her worry by getting angrier.

"Who?" She asked for the second time, cocking back her fist. When the man remained silent, her knuckles smashed his nose. Must've been the hardest punch she ever thrown, even though she was taken aback.

"Alright!" He yelped, not wanting to be hit again. "Everett"

Everett, the most brutal of crime bosses. People borrowed from him like they were taking out a loan from their local bank. When the banks closed, leaving loan sharks as the only means towards acquiring capital men like Everett snatched ownership of townspeople in substantial territories. Mykle was one of many to owe a large debt to Everett.

"He owes him 2,000 credits. I was ordered to bring Everett his head." The walls were caving in around Mykle. How could have he been so irresponsible to put himself in a situation he may not escape with his life? "Course, Everett isn't the only man who wants Mykle's head on a pike. Guess I should have came earlier." The man said with a minor titter. "Now let me go!"

"Not just yet!" Cecily demands to know who else Mykle is in the red with.

"Mr. Blair, to name the other. Other than that, I don't know. Rumors are he owes various loan sharks 25,000." This startled Cecily. Her family worked every day in the factories during her childhood, never compiling so much as Mykle racked up in debt.

Being knocked unconscious gave Mykle his greatest sleep he's had since the Jedi Order casted him out. When he awoke his body was well rested. He'd stretch out his arms and legs only they were attached to a wooden chair, tied behind him and to his side, respectfully. A splitting headache made its appearance known seconds after.

"Where am I?" Mykle asked groggily. A muscular man stood, his mug looked chiseled from the strongest rock. He stood over Mykle, inspecting the ropes to make sure they weren't loosening. Mykle received no reply, his heart began to race.

"You are in a lot of trouble." The man finally spoke after some time of silence, his gruff, unforgiving tone fit the mood of the drab basement Mykle was locked in. "The boss isn't happy."

"Oh, no." Mykle feigned distress, though in reality his voice was on the verge of cracking.

"Yes." The man says. "Best you do whatever the boss says." The door slid open revealing an underwhelming individual in height, barely able to pass over the man's waist. Still, the broad shouldered brute stood straight, like an army general was in his presence. "Mr. Zhestkiy" His greeting wasn't met with even the slightest of eye contact.

"Briggs?" He asks nonchalantly, taking off his gloves. When the man nodded white leather smacked against the young boy's scratched cheeks. "You've been a very bad boy." Zhestkiy scorned, like a parent would a misbehaving child.

"I know, the other guy already told me." Mykle says derisively. Zhestkiy smiles, showing his brownish/yellow teeth. His breath disgusted Mykle.

"The boy has jokes. You know what my mother did to jokesters?"

"Place you on her knee and spank your heinie?" Mykle answered saucily, warning himself another gloved smack.

"If you're so smart why do you owe me 6,500?" Zhestkiy berated Mykle. "You remind me so much of myself, except at your age people twice my age paid me money. Whereas you..." Zhestkiy stopped himself. He didn't bring the boy here to give him a lecture.

"You're lucky I've gotten to you first. You made the mistake of going to Blair. The idiot owes me money, said I'd wipe half of the debt clean if he delivered you to me."

"And why did you want me so bad, I don't have any money." Mykle knew he had said the worst thing he could have told a loan shark who had him in a compromised position.

"Of course you don't!" He shouts. Sprinkles of saliva hitting Mykle's face. "You're spending all your time playing investigator for the Jedi. Living your childhood dream, I suppose?"

"What's it to you." Mykle didn't mean for the retort to sound like an actual question.

"I know everything!" A claim filled with such hubris Mykle felt he absolutely had to believe, given the circumstances. "I have my fingers in every pot in this city. But right now, I am in need of help."

"So why'd you get me?"

"Because loyalty is a hard thing to come by. When I need a throat slashed everyone is asking questions." Zhestkiy grew tired of having to explain himself to underlings.

"I won't be your hitman." Mykle states.

"Oh, but you have no choice. It's either you do it or you'll stay here, where... Uh..."

"Clarance"

"Clarance!" Zhestkiy snaps his fingers. "Will rip you limb from limb."

"Oh, is your henchman a Wookiee?" Mykle quips.

"Okay, you don't care about yourself, but what about Cecily? What about your Jedi friend, the Togruta? Or, what about your old friends back on Lianos? Be a shame if something happened to them."

Mykle knew he was playing with a bad hand. The ball once against fell abruptly, Mykle had to play it where it lies. "Okay, I'll do your bidding."

"Atta-boy!" Zhestkiy claps. "It's just one or two favors, I'll wipe your debts clean." He unties Mykle, stretching his aching arms and legs out.

"One or two, huh?" Zhestkiy nods. "What do I have to do?" A long silence followed.

"I dunno! I need some time to figure things out. For now, go out and clean yourself up. You look sick."

Mykle didn't understand why Zhestkiy cares, but he was right. Mykle clearly had an odor - and not a pleasant one, like he just swam in garbage. If only the water worked in his apartment... if only he could go to his apartment!

Cecily searched high and low and couldn't find Mykle anywhere. Her contact inside the Jedi Temple did not have any knowledge of his whereabouts. Ahsoka was equally as unhelpful.

"Aren't Jedi supposed to be all knowing?" Cecily quipped dryly.

"No." She answered, somewhat insulted by the generalization.

"Then what good are you?" Cecily became increasingly frustrated.

"You're right, I'm useless. Guess you don't need any backup then." She turned to leave.

"Whoa!" Cecily rushes to stop her. "Okay, I need you." Cecily could handle herself in a fight, it's just she wasn't the acrobatic brawler the Jedi Padawan is. Admittedly, Cecily felt more comfortable traversing down the seedy underbelly of Coruscant with Ahsoka by her side. Cecily always wanted backup if a scrape seemed unavoidable.

They began their descent of Coruscant with the intentions of finding Mykle, quickly getting sidetracked by unwillingness of witnesses, suspected associates of Everett to corporate despite the intelligence they've gathered told them these specific people had an axe to grind with the crime boss. Turns out, Everett was a cheap man, one who did know the meaning of loyalty unless if it was a one-way street to himself.

"You heard of this theory one, or maybe dozens of these racketeering scoundrels are leading the Credit Army protests." One of Everett's former associates said off the cuff. Cecily had her suspicions, but this form of corruption was still foreign to Ahsoka. Padme had tried her best to educate the Padawan of the inner workings of politics, the instances of dirty pool even the senator couldn't remain above all the time.

"What's that got to do with it?" Cecily interrogated.

"I know Mykle, he helped me and a friend deliver some weapons from the black market. One of those shipments was to the Credit Army. For protection, of course." He says.

"Of course." An unbelieving Cecily replied. Meanwhile, Tano, wasn't so skeptical. Later she challenged the man's claim, asking a round of questions to Cecily.

"How is it Mykle resorted to such things so soon?" Ahsoka thought Mykle was smart and would be able to find a good, honest job, or maybe join a resistance band somewhere in the galaxy.

"Mykle needed money and needed it bad. So he fell back into old habits." Cecily said nonchalantly. She could believe Mykle performed criminal acts, she didn't think it was in his nature to get himself mixed up with the Credit Army crisis. "He still has his morals." She asserts.

"Like what?"

"He never gave away Jedi secrets, even if it make his life a lot easier." How was that supposed to make her feel better? Ahsoka had seen her master betrayed numerous times, never once was there an attempt to draw a silver line from it. What kind of silver line is, well, at least he didn't cripple your order.

Anakin knew of Mykle's sketchy upbringing, yet, brought him aboard because he saw so much of himself in the young boy. The two developed a close friendship, a brother sibling kind. Witnessing their fall out was crushing for Ahsoka. She never seen her master so disappointed.

"We haven't found anything." After hours, the two women couldn't get a word from any of Everette's former associates. One passerby accidentally bumped into Ahsoka while she was observing a nuna drumstick in the window of a delicatessen. Mykle picked himself up, then offered Ahsoka a hand, not knowing who it was he had knocked down. His eyes widened to the size of frying pans at her face.

"Ahsoka..." No matter how many times he ran into an old acquaintance from his Jedi days, the discomfort was always there.

"We've been looking everywhere for you!" Cecily chided him for not telling her his whereabouts.

"I've had some trouble." Mykle admits.

"Debt collectors?" Cecily said casually, like it was just a mere inconvenience. Then again, Mykle always seemed to avoid death just by sheer happenstance.

"Who else. I was tied up in a basement, held at gunpoint." Mykle embellished the details slightly.

"So how'd you get out?" Cecily asks.

"Told them their check was in the mail." He quips, irking the straightforward Ahsoka to the breaking point.

"How can you be so calm, you could have been gutted from the neck down and none of your friends will know." The two looked at the Togruta like she was crazy. Doesn't she know the mere showing of vulnerability red meat to these sharks?

"I do some work and pay off my debts, easy."

"It's never easy." Cecily points out. "You're far too ignorant."

"I'll figure it out. Ahsoka, it's good to see you." He walks off at a brisk pace, searching for his next distraction.

"Sometimes I wonder if he's too stupid to live." Ahsoka dryly comments. Cecily shrugs.

"Too ignorant to die, in my opinion." She adds.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Ahsoka returns to the Jedi Temple, no one noticed she was even gone. Mykle used to sneak out and indulge himself inside the city, avoiding detection as he left and returned. She waited for the day his shenanigans would cost him, only to never be given his comeuppance.

Anakin occupied himself in the war room hoping to take his mind off the hanger bay bombing by focusing his energy assisting master Plo Koon carve his assault plan for Christophsis.

His back was turned, Anakin was distracted and didn't sense his student's presence. A call was placed for Skywalker. "Master Windu, What have you acquired?" Since Skywalker was assisting Plo Koon, Windu took over the interrogation of Leta.

"I've tried everything. She will not talk. I've considered probing her mind, I'm afraid she's too weak and it will cripple her mentally." Windu internally deliberated again whether he should or shouldn't give the tactic a go.

"She's our only source of information, so I'd advise against it." Skywalker said. "We've tried everything."

"Not everything. Leta seems to respond better to someone around her own age." Windu threw out an idea that didn't seem very bold.

"You want to send Ahsoka?" Anakin seemed surprised Windu had that much faith in his Padawan. Usually, it's the other way around. "You know I'm not one to doubt my student's abilities but-"

"It was merely a suggestion." Windu amended. "We'll think of something else." Only when the transmission cut did Anakin sense Ahsoka's presence. He hoped she didn't hear the conversation that just transpired. She can be quite sensitive.

"Ahsoka," Anakin greets his Padawan, not even a question where she was.

"Master, I can handle it." She was quick to say before Anakin could change the subject.

"I've never doubted your abilities." Anakin assures her. "I am concerned for your wellbeing. Leta is dangerous, she'll try and trick you."

"I'm not someone that's easy to convince." She retorted. "I can handle myself."

"Ahsoka, the answer is no." He had put his foot down, a method Skywalker did not enjoy practicing. Growing uncomfortable, Anakin fidgeted. "Listen, why don't you take the day off and go find Barriss. I think she needs you." Ahsoka stared at him for a moment, then left. Mumbling under her breath.

Ahsoka complains frequently to Barriss Anakin and others frequently doubts her. It's a wonderful thing to have such a great listener. Everything usually came easier to Barriss, at least to Ahsoka. Barriss didn't struggle during her developmental years in Master Yoda's class like she did. Always getting the upper hand in sparring sessions and various mini-games they'd come up with.

"Forget it." After a while wandering the halls of the Jedi Temple, Ahsoka gave up trying to find Barriss. Her mind was now on Leta. "I'll show him I can take care of myself."

Mykle was afraid to return to his home. So he stayed at Cecily's place, having no plans to ever return to his apartment. They've already found out where he lives, it isn't worth the risk. He'd have one night here, the next day he'd go hunting for a safe house.

"You have a pistol I can use? I left mine at the apartment." Mykle asks right before going to bed.

"Why don't you just go back and get yours?" She asks. He looked at her like she was insane.

"They are likely staking out my apartment. Once they see me they'll surely kill me." He answered, getting himself comfortable on her small and narrow couch. "Couldn't you afford something more comfortable?"

"I'm not a couch potato like you." Cecily basically told him to keep his yap shut, which he did. Tossing and turning in his thin pillow, his neck began to feel sore. Was it too much to ask for a good night's sleep after all he's been through?

The next day, one of Zhestkiy's men called Mykle, telling him to find a call box. "How old are you?" Mykle asks off the cuff. What an old fashioned way of going about communication.

"It's to make sure our call isn't being monitored, moron." He berates him, demanding once again Mykle find himself an isolated line. Rushing around the city like a madman, when Mykle asked for the nearest call box he'd get quizzical looks. Finally, he found the outdated hunk of junk, sliding six galactic coins into the slot waiting for Zhestkiy to perform his part of the bargain.

"Took you nearly an hour to find a call box?" Zhestkiy started the conversation off lecturing Mykle about his lack of punctuality.

"How about you stop being so cheap and buy your workers a burner phone?" Mykle snidely remarks, earning a hearty chuckle from Zhestkiy.

"You're lucky you're useful to me." He warns him. "The people I have are cowards. They won't deliver a package for me. I need you to go to my lockup down in level 914 and transport it to a garage outside the city limits." Mykle bit his tongue, knowing there wasn't a way to talk himself out of this fishy task. He merely said it be done and hung up.

A bit perturbed there wouldn't be any help, Mykle's antenna went off telling him to ditch this mission, but the consequences of inaction would have been more disastrous. "I'm in the truck." Mykle told Zhestkiy. To calm his nerves, he lit himself a death stick.

"It should blow up real good." Zhestkiy said darkly. "Real good." This stopped Mykle from lighting his match. "Wait until you're parked to trigger it." It?

"What?"

"The truck is loaded with crates filled with nanotechnology, should blow up real good." Stunned, Mykle remained silent. "The Everett's owe me money. They don't want to pay, I'll run them out of my town!" Zhestkiy hangs up leaving Mykle befuddled and afraid. Venturing to back, inspecting the cargo, just to check if Zhestkiy was bluffing. Nope. Nanotech sitting comfortably and ready to blow at the drop of a hatch. In a state of utter shock Mykle turned the ignition on and carefully drove off.

"What have I got myself into!"

The bomb went off without a hitch, Everett's garage went up in brilliant flame consuming more than one building. Mykle never performed such an amoral task in his life before this. Not even the fact that this was mostly an area housing scum and villains could soothe his erratic heartbeat. The color of his skin dropped from a strong shade of copper to paler than a ghost.

He waited a while before telling Zhestkiy the job was done. When he did Zhestkiy was overjoyed, stating his crime family was going to "head to the mattresses" against The Everett's. To Mykle's surprise, Zhestkiy informed him that his services are no longer needed and told him to "watch himself."

"I've been watching myself for a few years now. I'm used to it."

Another night Mykle wouldn't be wise to return to where he spent the previous night. Maybe there's a bridge he can sleep under. Like a troll. Returning to the densely populated parts of Coruscant, the building ticker went off. Mykle expected his escapades to have already made it into the news cycle.

It was time for him to give up this life and move. Far away. Away from friends he could potentially put in danger. Where could he go? That's the question which stifled him. He didn't have a lot of money, so his options are limited. Regardless, he'd have to put some distance between him and Cecily, enough so the Everett's don't drag her into his mess.

CHAPTER EIGHT

The way recent events have transpired, the common folk have to wonder "What is it with Coruscant lately?" Every day there's a new bombing and no matter how bolstered security becomes it doesn't seem to matter. Palpatine needed the people to just keep their yaps shut, give him time to focus on his bigger fish he's in the process of frying. The war took up much of his time during its earlier days. The Chancellor could swear to himself he hasn't been thinking about the biggest galactic conflict in the history of his republic for the last month. The "Credit Army" debacle was at center stage, rumors swirling around the veterans planned to lay siege to the capital if their demands at an early pension weren't met. To make matters worse, another terrorist attack adds yet another wrinkle to the skilled politicians' withering face. Everywhere he turned there was drama to be met.

Feeling his influence waning, Palpatine wrote out a statement to address the anxious people glued to their Holonets' watching the outskirts of the city burn to a crisp and the churning ball of fire developing inside. He urged compassion and care to not give way to anger and despair. These are just words customary after every tragedy for a politician to say. It'll likely do very little to help those already inflamed by the toxic climate.

In the middling of crafting his address, Anakin bolted through the doors unannounced, Palpatine's bodyguards tried to prevent his entry. "I need to talk." His voice sounded extremely horsed.

"I'm terribly sorry," Palpatine says gently. "I cannot-"

"My Padawan has been accused of murder!"

"That is very serious." Palpatine sighs.

"I need to see the footage from Leta's prison cell. But I need authorization from you first." Palpatine dutifully performed his task asking no questions. Anakin was in such a hurry he didn't even notice Palpatine's indifference.

Anakin rushes back to play the tape, witnessing Ahsoka choking Leta, holding her against the ceiling, Ahsoka's hands raised keeping her there until her throat closed.

"No..." Anakin was speechless. This couldn't be. Perhaps his impulsive nature rubbed off his student. "This is my fault."

"You mustn't blame yourself." Palpatine consoled. "Someone in your position teaching can only have so much control over their student." Hanging his head, filled with shame. Drying his eyes his emotional distraught washed away replaced.

"No." He said defiantly. "This can't be right. Ahsoka wouldn't do this."

"But the evidence is staring you right at your face." Palpatine replies.

"The guards won't let me into her cell. I need to talk to her, can you help me?"

"Of course, Anakin."

Rushing back to the maximum security penitentiary, where Ahsoka was being held, he noted how they haven't even given their newest prisoner a jumpsuit. She still wore her usual Jedi attire. A short skirt, the rest of her lower body covered by black leggings and high boots matching the aforementioned skirt. For a brief moment his humor side entertained the idea of notifying the guards of this fact, bringing a smile that lasted far too short.

"So did you-" She was still in a state of utter shock at the recent events. While she went into a shell, a distraught Anakin couldn't stand still for very long.

"Yes" he cut her off.

"Master, I didn't do it." She defended herself. "Something... happened."

Anakin remained in the camp his Padawan was innocent. The obvious look of guilt on her face began sowing the seeds of doubt, of which they'd sprout. "Ahsoka... not that I don't believe you, but why didn't you listen to me?" He wanted to scorn her for her disobedience. Given the circumstances, what good would that have done?

"I thought I could help." She shakes her head feeling as if she'd broken her master's trust. "I was filled with rage at Leta's heartlessness. I hated her. I did not kill her."

"Hate is a dangerous feeling." He stoically says.

"I know Master. Barriss told me about her feelings towards the man who killed her teacher, I guess-"

"Don't blame someone else for this." He lectured her.

"You're right."

"I'm going to see what I can do. I promise I won't leave you behind." He reaches out and holds her hand.

"Thanks, Master." Her eyes twinkling, clearly she's been crying.

She was left alone to spend the night in her cell. At least there wasn't a roommate, the criminals inside are rough and tumble. Real cutthroats. Not that Ahsoka could not take care of herself. The only issue she had was stamina, eventually enough people would come for her she'd grow tired and vulnerable.

Besides Anakin there wasn't any visitors. Perhaps they didn't know, was her first thought. Then she worried if her friends had heard she'd been accused of murder and wanted to distance themselves from her. Frightful, she feared the evidence to frame her was too substantial to overcome. For goodness sake, they have footage of her committing murder! How can she wiggle out of this, despite the fact she's innocent.

Her thought process is derailed, the pulsating sound of a cattle prod needling a security guard and his body hitting the floor diverted her attention. She could not spot whom it was that committed the act. Finding only the keycard discarded by the guard's thigh. With the simple act of Force augmentation she floated the keycard delicately through the slot and the barriers vanished.

"Thank you, Master." She assumed it was Anakin taking the traditional hands on approach. If wasn't until coming across more guards, this time with gashed wounds gushing blood did she realize this wasn't the work of her master.

Mykle had already packed his bags, cobbling together enough credits to board a transport to go south far from the big city. A little seclusion would do Mykle some good in dodging Everett. If he had the time, he would have told Cecily about his plans. He didn't want to risk getting her in trouble. He didn't know where this transport was taking him, all he needed to know it was far from here.

He was just about to board when the news ticker attached to the wall captured his attention. Seemingly he was the only one not looking straight ahead with dead eyes.

"JEDI AHSOKA TANO HAS ESCAPED. TANO WAS ACCUSED OF MURDERING TERRORIST LETA TURMOND."

"They call Padawans Jedi?"

Mykle rubbed his eyes, hoping to learn what he had just read wasn't real. It was. Ahsoka hadn't only been accused of murder, apparently she is also on the lamb. If it was anyone else he'd let the situation sort itself out. Mykle wanted nothing more than to turn a blind eye, board his transport and put the past behind him. Internally, there's a pull keeping him from doing this. As he inches closer to the steps his anxiety grew. Whatever decision he'd make, Mykle assumes it would be the wrong one.

"Damn it!" He curses before turning around and rushing out of the terminal. Repeating "damn it" as he hastily left to find his friend before the republic did.

Where could he possibly start his search? Ahsoka rarely ventured outside the Jedi Temple unless if it was wholly work related. It's the complete opposite with himself, having his usual hangouts to lead people in the right direction. Ahsoka is a blank slate entirely. All she's ever known is the Jedi Temple. Thankfully, she's far from naive and can take care of herself twofold.

The bounty on a Jedi is substantial. Enough to entice any man. If Mykle was a cold blooded, heartless freak he could capture a Jedi, collect the reward and his problems would be over with. But the act was always beneath Mykle. His moral compass may have been smashed, it's still somewhat functional.

She needed some serious help. This wasn't something easy for Ahsoka to say, even to herself. Though Coruscant is a melting pot of many cultures and races, there isn't many Togrutas so it's safe to assume she'll stick out like a sore thumb. Profiling isn't above law enforcement. Weaponless and without an ally inside the Jedi Order, her goal was simple... at least when said aloud.

"Now if I was Mykle..." She used all of her mental energy putting herself in his shoes. Her and Cecily didn't have much of a relationship and her contact list is inferior to Mykle's. If anyone knew the seedy workings of Coruscant's scum is Mykle. A fact Ahsoka would deride Mykle for in the past. How the tables have turned.

Her first visit was for Cecily. "I don't know where Mykle is. He spent the night here and when I came back he was gone and so was his stuff."

It was raining, Ahsoka's clothes clung to her body as she shivered. Cecily drapes a blanket over her. "Maybe you should stay here." Cecily suggests.

"No, I'm fine." She protests out of pride.

"Oh, really? You're on the run from the Jedi and lower level law enforcement." She points out.

"Well, I..." She relented her situation wasn't ideal and accepted Cecily's offer, grateful for her generosity.

"Tomorrow we'll search the lower levels of Coruscant. Mykle usually hangs out down there."

That is exactly where the two headed the next day. The sewage the storm drains on the upper levels took on, it burped right out onto the poorly constructed streets and sidewalks of the lower levels. Tent cities as far as the eye could see. Considering how rich Coruscant is, it's startled Ahsoka to see this part of the planet.

"How can people live like this?" Ahsoka wondered. Cecily resisted to urge to snap at the naive Togruta knowing she didn't mean to say what she did in a way that blamed the poor.

"It's been over a generation since a chancellor openly cared about all and didn't privatize his financial success." Cecily mumbled, urging Ahsoka to not talk too much, lest they lose their low profile.

"This cowl is itchy." Ahsoka complains, resisting the urge to scratch at her deathly sensitive montrals.

"You wanna be recognized?" She hissed. "Your face is plastered all over every street corner from top to bottom.

Meanwhile, Mykle was busy with his own search. But not for Ahsoka. Coming around to the idea his friend wanted nothing to do with him, despite the irregularity of the circumstance. Mykle remembered the nano-droids Zhestkiy used to bomb the garage the previous day. He distinctly remembered his eyes coming across nanotechnology on the table next to a Jerry can... presumably filled with water which they'd use to waterboard him if they so wished. Mykle briefly thought how lucky he was to have not been put in such a position.

"Is Zhestkiy responsible for the hanger bay bombing?" Mykle thought to himself. He needed to get his hands on Zhestkiy's supply to compare. Such weaponry is outlawed, though sold on the black market. Out of the two black market salesman he knew, only one was seedy enough to deal such sensitive materials for a sizable profit.

Zhestkiy drank himself silly every day. The way he handled his liquor impressed even his critics. Though wobbly, he managed to perform his duties well enough to avoid catastrophe. It helped matters Zhestkiy is a happy, proud drunk. Palling around with underlings he hadn't alienated or scared off by asking too much of them. The day he demanded Mykle bomb Everett's garage - which was previously his property, Zhestkiy was unnaturally belligerent, and even more stupid than before. Surely he'd inherit the winds of his actions.

"Only *hiccup* thing that brings me joy, is this bottle." Zhestkiy tells his underboss Leo, utterly disinterested in another one of Zhestkiy's rants. Which'll it be today? Giddy self-promotion or a self-loathing that'll make Leo want to stab himself in the eye with a toothpick? The question itself was more intriguing. "Well, That and knowing that scum Everett is hightailing it out of my town."

"He's probably running scared now." Leo hyped up his boss, as he poured him his third glass of the hardest liquor on the shelf. "I could use more of that stuff." Leo elected to be coy at the risk of the room being bugged.

"Uhh." Zhestkiy had to admit he has no clue what Leo is referring too.

"What was loaded onto the truck." Leo had to be extra patient with Zhestkiy, least he become agitated and violent as he tended to become when he felt he was made to look stupid.

"Oh, yes!" Zhestkiy bellowed, the two wires in his head finally connecting. "Head to my garage and take whatever you need."

"You keep sensitive material in your garage?" Leo knew Zhestkiy was a little unhinged, the question of how much so remained undetermined.

"Why not?"

Mykle has gained entry to Zhestkiy's compound by pure negligence on the part of his security team leaving the door unlocked and unmanned for a brief time. He's spent the last hour trying to pry just one crate open, only he did not know the code. When Leo walked down Mykle rushed to conceal himself, watching from not so far as Leo opened the crate Mykle's tried to access moments earlier.

"Whoa!" Leo gasped. "This is some sick gear." He practically drooled on it he was so amazed. "Zhestkiy wasn't lying when he said he got the good." Overly excited, Leo left the crate unattended and open after grabbing what he wanted. Mykle snuck over to take a picture of the crates inhabitants.

"So it was Zhestkiy who bombed the hanger bay... he's always resented the Republic for ending his universal arms trade." The logic how destroying a few ships would help Zhestkiy's cause didn't add up. Zhestkiy never was the one to act within the bounds of reason.

Mykle was about to take the fight to Zhestkiy right then and there. Glancing up towards the window he saw he and Leo has departed. On the bright side this left him to take a closer look at Zhestkiy's belongings. Logs of his dealings with the Separatists go way back, before the war even began. Mykle took what he needed, slipped it into his jacket pocket and slipped out the window.

Anakin's confidence in his Padawan's innocence began to wane - to say the least. He cursed himself for not keeping a closer eye on her. His passion rubbed off her in the worst ways. The story itself, recited to him multiple times, continued to make little sense.

"Ahsoka killed Leta to cover her tracks for orchestrating the hanger bay bombing." None of that registered with him. Sure, she went out of her way to pay the prisoner a visit, that didn't mean Ahsoka was intent on keeping Leta quiet. If so was the case, why didn't she do it the day before, or the day prior. Why risk Leta squealing Ahsoka as the puppet-master for so long?

Yet, what else scenario was there to explain the video explicitly showing Ahsoka choking the life out of Leta? Her hands raised in her usual stance when using Force augmentation.

"I know this is hard for you, Anakin." Obi-Wan was in foreign territory. He didn't know exactly how to go about comforting his former apprentice. "You have to trust the council will find Ahsoka and sort this out."

"It sounds more like they've already made up theirs minds whether she's guilty or innocent." He replies dismissively. "Even Plo Koon doubted her innocence." Obi-Wan remained silent. "Judging by your look you're also on the fence?"

"Anakin-" In any other instance Skywalker would have ranted and raved to Kenobi, calling him a passionateness fool for believing someone he's known for years could do such a thing. But he was worn out, running on fumes.

"No. It's your opinion and I have to respect that." He gets up to leave Obi-Wan behind, ignoring his pleas to return. He had enough of the Jedi and their red tape. It was time he took matters into his own hands.

"I can't go to the police" Mykle laminates, contemplating his next move. "... Everett and Zhestkiy won this town. I give them the evidence, they'll burn it and then slit my neck, chop my body up and throw me into the river... wow, that's unnecessary violent. Something is really wrong with me." He shakes his head. "Focus!"

His wrist vibrated, the com-link going off felt like it was connected to Mykle's bones whenever he got a call. "Hello." He didn't recognize the number.

"You want blood?" The deep voice didn't throw Mykle off, assuming this was a prank.

"I don't have time for prank calls." He was about to hang up when the facade of the caller washed away.

"Hold on!" He urged him not to. "I can help you find and destroy Zhestkiy."

"Yeah, right."

"I have my issues with him too. I can't get to him though, he'd spot me. However, he's taken kindly to you." The caller explained.

"How do I go about it?" Mykle asks, buying in a little more.

"Zhestkiy is heading to a club right now."

"That's awfully specific." Mykle rolls his eyes, again ready to hang up.

"He usually hangs out at The Garden Room. Don't believe me? Wouldn't hurt to at least try." The caller hangs up, leaving Mykle to decide whether he is to take the tip or not.

"He's probably lying... wouldn't know that until I actually go." Mykle did decide to take the mysterious strangers' tip and went to The Garden Room, finding Zhestkiy's car parked in the lot across the street. His com-link vibrated again.

"So you decided to listen." The caller sounds more confident than before.

"Yeah. They don't allow weapons inside and I'm sure Zhestkiy doesn't need to adhere to those same rules." Mykle told him.

"I have you some protection. It's behind the latrine, third stall."

"How very kind of you. Hopefully you kept it clean?" Mykle didn't get a chance to hear the man's response, as he hung up. "Nobody says goodbye anymore." Mykle grumbles before gaining entry.

"I.D please." The muscled bouncier demanded. Reaching into his back pocket Mykle pulled out a fake I.D he had Cecily make him. It was so he could get a job as a bartender the first month he left the Jedi Order. Money was tight and Mykle had nowhere else to turn besides the very late night shift at a watering hole in the seediest part of Coruscant. Either Mykle forgot the name of the joint or blocked it out of his mind. Fortunately the bouncier wasn't privy how can be forged and how to spot their falsities. Mykle gained entry and wasted no time making a beeline to the refresher to retrieve the weapon stashed for him.

The club was anything but quiet. Mykle couldn't hear himself think and the blinding, swirling colors disoriented him slightly. It took him a few minutes to spot Zhestkiy. The remnants of his connection to the Force warned him that something was amiss. Be that as it may, Zhestkiy was a criminal too unpredictable to be left alone. Eventually, he'd call Mykle for another insane favor he probably wouldn't return unscathed from.

"Mykle!" Zhestkiy spotted the boy, he gingerly approached him. "How are you?" A bit startled, Mykle answered he's fine. "Good. Good. You want to drink?"

"No." This wasn't the time to drink.

"I want to talk to you." Zhestkiy told him. "Come, follow me." Two guards got up and followed Zhestkiy to the back of the club. The lights were dim, he could barely make out the individuals attaching themselves to Zhestkiy's coattails. "I've heard about your Jedi friend." He starts, baffling Mykle.

"You did?"

"Yes, and I am sorry." Mykle waited to see if there was anything more to this, only to realize there wasn't. "I know why you're here."

"You do?" The guards suspiciously got closer.

"You think I had something to do with your friend?"

"I've noticed your language towards the Jedi." Mykle points out, his eyes darting from side to side.

"Yours wasn't much kinder." Zhestkiy retorts. Who among us has not said an unkind word to anyone or towards anything?"

"Only one person can buy the type of nano-droids used to bomb the hanger bay, I doubt it was some petty bounty hunter. No one is crazy enough to have such a target willingly painted on their backs." Mykle felt a hand clasps atop his shoulder, he jerks it away and delivers a swift punch to the guard's jaw which sends him tumbling like a boxer who had just taken the knockout blow. The second guard was about to act, Mykle incapacitated him with a shot to his foot, then he points his pistol towards Zhestkiy's chest.

"I knew you were good." Zhestkiy smiles.

"You set Ahsoka up!" Mykle belted out. "Out of all the Jedi to entangle in your erratic escapades, it's my friend."

"Precisely why I wouldn't do something like this." Zhestkiy preached his innocence. "Mykle, I promised no harm would come to your friends if you did my bidding. You kept your end of the bargain, I kept mine."

"I doubt that." Mykle's middle finger hugs the trigger.

"Then do what you came here to do, two-bit." Zhestkiy opens his jacket to show his chest.

Mykle wanted to kill Zhestkiy. It all be so easy. Regardless if his defense held water Zhestkiy wasn't a good man to begin with. Above all else, Mykle did value loyalty. Doubts swirled around him. Mykle decided on one solution. He pulled the trigger, down went Zhestkiy.

"Did you kill him?" Mykle made the call to the man.

"No. I don't think your tip was correct." He explains.

"What?" The man began irritable.

"I know someone who knows a few good eggs inside the police force, with any luck Zhestkiy won't be seeing the light of day." Mykle summarized his middle ground approach.

"We need to talk."

"When?"

"Right now."

The man came from out of the shadows under the stairwell. He wasn't a man at all. He was Mykle's age, bruised chin and a swollen right cheek.

"Who are you?"

"I served with you in The Clone Wars, Mykle. You're on your way towards finding the Sith Lord, but you'll have to trust me." Mykle was taken aback by someone in the Jedi Order actually believed him. "Zhestkiy is a part of a cabal to destroy the Jedi Order and sent the capital of Coruscant into chaos. He is too dangerous to keep alive." Mykle took one look at Zhestkiy and then at his pistol. "There is much work to be done."

"Then you do it yourself." Mykle tosses him the pistol. Without hesitation he pulls the trigger and did so again to finish off the wounded guard, who was in the process of bleeding out.

"You have to deal in absolute to survive this universe." He scolds. "The name is Mijo."

CHAPTER NINE

"It's pointless, Cecily." Ahsoka says plopping herself on the curb. Her legs grew tired from the endless travel. "We've been searching forever and haven't found him. I think me and you should take matters into our own hands." Cecily waiter for Ahsoka to come around to this idea for so long.

"At this point we'll have too." Cecily pretends to hold reluctance, sighing to effect. Ahsoka hates being in a position where she needed to ask for help. Her pride never allows her to be in a state of such vulnerability.

"So, how do you and Mykle know each other?" Ahsoka asks.

"We grew up together on Lianos. He was a kid needing protection on the way to school. I took him under my wing and taught him how to fight." Cecily recalls. "Shame I didn't teach him how to hit the books."

"Yes."

"We're the same age. He's so immature, I might as well be his older sibling. Sometimes he's exhausting to deal with." She laments.

"I can relate." Ahsoka chuckles. "You have to convince him to keep up, it seems."

"One dirty secret about him is he is mostly talk. Mykle is very pragmatic when push comes to shove. I can imagine you and him made for an... interesting pairing?"

"A match made in heaven." Ahsoka quips. Cecily didn't laugh, she hummed to communicate she understood what she meant.

"So why does Mykle hang out with these people if he knows no good will come out of it?" Ahsoka inquires.

"For a long time Mykle put his family aside for his own sake. Being away for so long made him regret his past. Since being expelled, he's tried to right his wrongs by sending money back home. He has a younger sister, Tiana, he's saving money to put through college."

"Why can't his mother and father handle it?"

"Mykle's mother died when he was a baby. His father works all day for little to nothing, it's a wonder how they scrape by." Cecily lost her parents at a young age thanks to the demands of Lianos' harsh working conditions.

"I had no idea." Ahsoka gasps, never knowing any of this. Mykle usually was tight lipped about his upbringing.

"What happened to your braid?" Cecily noticed Ahsoka was missing her signature Silka beads, customary wear for a Padawan.

"When the Jedi expelled me they ripped it off." She said.

"That fast, huh?" Cecily couldn't believe how swift events moved.

It was late, and Mykle had grown tired. With the Everett's in the middle of leaving Coruscant, and word of Zhestkiy's passing yet to reach them, this presented Mykle with the brief window to venture back to his home one more time to get what he needs. Opening his door, which hadn't been closed in days, predictably his room was ransacked. He worried if the contraband hidden under his bed had also been taken.

Luckily, for him, it hadn't been. Taking out a black lock box, rummaging through candy wrappers stuffed inside, Mykle pulls out his old lightsaber. The stainless steel felt so cold back in his hands. He checks to see if the door is closed before igniting the weapon to see it's seductive glow. The clean, light color shade of yellow made Mykle's eyes twinkle as if it was the first time he's ever seen it. Touching the hilt to his sword brought back vivid memories. Brilliant adventures, exotic sights nobody in his family's ever seen couldn't even imagine right before him. His young, innocent eye widened to the size of saucers at first glance.

Now he feels nothing. Only one thing drives the teenager now. Chasing after the big bad cost him the only home he really cared about. Losing friends isn't something Mykle is foreign to. He's experienced loss almost regularly. Able to connect himself to the losses of many friends, if only he never came into the Jedi Order would they still be alive. If he had the guts he'd cut himself off from those still alive he genuinely cared for. But what is life without a single friend to care whether you're breathing tomorrow.

Anakin's goals were simpler than Mykle or Ahsoka's. Simply put, he was to find Ahsoka, take her back to the Jedi Temple to face the situation head on. After all, this rogue cop act surely made her look worse in the eyes of those already skeptical of her innocence.

Anakin rarely ventured far from the Jedi Temple, unless it was on patrol, he never found the time to simply take a leisurely stroll. He did take note the decaying of the streets, heightened by the rampant rise in homelessness all seemed immoral to him. Like his Padawan, he too did not realize the system's failure to protect its most vulnerable people. Men and women still dressed in their military garb, probably part of the "Credit Army" walked past Skywalker. One, however, recognized the Jedi and stopped him.

"Hey, you're Anakin Skywalker!" The man sounded amazed at his luck. Every now and then he'd be stopped on the street and have to sign an autograph or two. Skywalker nods his head, eager to get going. "I served with you on Florum, along with the 322nd division." Anakin couldn't possibly remember every single soul he's served with, especially not one in any particular holding any particular command.

"Yes, it was a wonderful victory." Anakin honestly can't remember if Florum did work out or not. The plug on the assault was pulled far too soon, in his eyes.

"Well I want you to know it cost me my hands fighting by your side." The man holds up His iron fists to prove his isn't kidding. "I was supposed to become a concert pianist. The war took away my life's ambitions." For once Anakin dropped his own interests and focused on someone else's.

"I am so sorry." He says truthfully. "You're truly brave. I too lost a part of me in this conflict." Anakin shows the man his mechno-arm. "It took some time getting used too." Seeing as his observation didn't make the man laugh, Skywalker went into his pocket. "Can I-"

"I don't want YOUR money. I want your friend, the chancellor, to keep his promise he wouldn't let my family go hungry!" He said that and abruptly left, leaving Anakin with yet another concern on his already suffocated plate. All Anakin could do is placate the poor fellow, he did care for this man's plight, though powerless to actually assist.

Turning a corner, Anakin could have sworn have seen Ahsoka's silhouette gingerly dancing on the wall. Rushing to track it down, he found it just to be a stray Lothal cat. "Hey, little buddy." The sight did warm his heart, making him feel a little more at ease. Giving a couple of scratches under the cat's round chin. He found himself pressed up against the ground, his face slamming against the concrete. Surprisingly, he did not black out or have his skull cracked. When his hearing returned, he made out the voice and recognized the sound.

"Ventress?" He guessed groggily, in the middle of her diatribe. "It was you all-" she slams his head into a puddle, breaking his nose.

"Quiet!"

He felt the heat of her twin red lightsabers on either side of his neck.

"You made a mistake coming down here. The underworld pays generously for the head of a Jedi." Ventress gloats, locking his arms behind his back with stun cuffs. "Don't think about using the Force, these things will send a shock to your spine."

Spitting up little specks of blood and dirty water. "Oh, no!" He feigns distress. Ventress pulls her prisoner up to his two feet, Anakin needed to be held by the sleeve to be prevented from falling over. "I don't have time for this." He tells her.

"I know." Ventress points out she's heard of all the drama swirling around the Jedi and Skywalker's "pet." Anakin acts fast and digs the back of his boot on to Ventress' foot, stomping so hard he could hear bones snap. It's the loudest he's ever heard her scream. Skywalker manages to get his hands back in front of him and wraps the durasteel strap around her neck.

"All this and I didn't even need to use the Force." Anakin grits his teeth, able to get his self-satisfying quip into her ear. He makes it very clear he has no issue choking the life out of her.

"I saved your life against Dooku." He reminds her of the time her master turned on her. "You owe me."

"You also tried to kill me hundreds of times." Ventress retorts, struggling against Anakin's vice-like grip.

"That's because you tried to kill me..." Anakin wanted desperately to escape this game of 'I said, she said' "Look, you help me and I'll come quietly so you can collect your reward."

After a brief time spent contemplating, Ventress accepted the terms laid out for her. "No games?" She checks. Anakin shakes his head. "So what do I do." She asks, after he releases her, unlocking the cuffs not soon after.

"Just let me handle my business."

"I'm not falling for that, Skywalker. I'm sticking by your side so right after you find your pet I'm taking you down."

Anakin sighs, before reluctantly agreeing. "Fine. Maybe you'll prove useful." He tried to show optimism.

"I'll make it my mission not to be." She quips.

Despite the light-hearted attempt at humor, Anakin saw Ventress looked even grayer than before. Almost as if all the blood had left her body. She wore armor and a retractable black and silver helmet helmet to cover her beady eyes.

"So you've become a bounty hunter?" Anakin couldn't resist asking. Seems like a step down, even for a Sith like herself.

"It's a living." Anakin noted how something so inoffensive could sound so menacing coming from her.

Mykle's never met this guy before. Mijo claims to have served by Mykle's side during The Clone War. Maybe he just forgot his face? "You doubt I'm a veteran?" Mijo asks.

"Do you have a certificate that proves your point?" Mykle jokingly replies.

"My Master was friends with your master, Terra Tilden." Mijo knew his master was very popular and knew a lot of people inside the Jedi Order. He swears she could have spoken every language in the galaxy fluently. It meant a lot to him when she took a risk and assigned herself as his tutor.

"I'm not following." Mykle confesses. Mijo shrugged, eager to get off of this.

"Hey, we all have so much to do as Jedi we're bound to forget stuff. Point is: I'm not lying you." He followed Mijo to a warehouse in Follett finding a crate of nano-droids.

"Zhestkiy..." Mykle assumed. Mijo shook his head.

"No. One of his pawns." Mykle looks around the ceiling, spotting a camera perhaps recording them right now.

"There's a surveillance station at the end of that catwalk. I'm going to see if they have anything." Said Mykle. Mijo looks up to where Mykle was referring to, pleasantly surprised.

"Huh. Never saw that." He is somewhat staggered at the revelation.

Mykle walked across the creaky catwalk switching on the cameras, his eyes didn't blink once the recording went back to before the bombing of the hanger bay spotting a slender figure wheeling out a crate of nano-droids. Mijo stood right behind him, not knowing what to make of the tape.

"What do you think?" Mijo genuinely wanted to know.

"I think that's Ventress."

"Ventress?" Mijo was taken aback. "She isn't involved in this war anymore."

"I don't believe that slug Tyranus threw that harpy under the bus for a moment." Mykle was pretty defiant.

"Why?"

"Where is he going to find a rat more loyal than her?"

"I don't know." Mijo remained steadfast Mykle needed to take a breath, sensing his blood boiling. "How about I go out and see what I can find for you. Don't do anything rash."

"Last time I didn't do something rash I lost my Master." Mykle hisses, bolting out of his chair like a hungry animal escaping his cage, ready to pounce. "I'm going to find her and make her answer for her actions." Mykle walks off. Mijo chases after him.

"With what? You don't even have access to the Force anymore!" But his warning fell on the deafest of ears. Mykle was to find Asajj Ventress and clear Ahsoka's name. "You don't even know where she is."

"You know everything, don't you? Tell me." Mykle was in such a rush, the words fumbled out of his mouth Mijo barely understood.

"How would I know?" He tried to calm him down, instantly regretting dangling red meat in front of this impulsive figure.

"I just said you know everything."

"Alright, if it'll satisfy your bloodlust. Ventress usually hangs around the gambling den in Monrhet. You have to promise me you wouldn't do anything stupid!" Mijo pleads with him again, but Mykle wasn't having it.

The tides of the press have turned on the chancellor. His slow response to the still-unfolding drama surrounding the Jedi. He thought this would provide a distraction to the growing conflict between those in the senate and the "Credit Army" - who've grown increasingly rambunctious in his eyes. His intelligence told him it was the protesters, pushed to their breaking point, to have committed the atrocious act. Personally, Palpatine only cared for getting rid of one of his many headaches. A chance to clear the streets of one band of ruffians. And that's what Palpatine set out to do.

He addressed the Galactic Republic in his sleep-inducing monotone voice. Perfect for projecting an aura of calm. Presenting the findings discovered by his intelligence, weaving in anecdotal evidence the Jedi found in their separate investigation to construct a reality convenient to himself.

"Going off of the findings of the Jedi investigation it is suspected Jedi apprentice Ahsoka Tano is the perpetrator of the bombing of the hanger bay and is currently on the run from authorities..."

After his short address came to a close, a brilliant wash of relief came over him, a weight lifted off his shoulders. Calling for the arrest of those he called "Anarchists" and pledged to not let his republic succumb to fear. Hopefully he could focus on the war effort and away from domestic issues from now on.

Within moments arrests and tear gas was fired upon the protesters refusing to go quietly. A wide scale riot broke out on the steps of the senate building. Men armed with high tech rifles beat servicemen armed merely with their own two hands into a bloody pulp. The mass-scale retreat happened soon after. Leaderless, the "Credit Army" ran like headless chickens into numerous directions.

CHAPTER TEN

Something definitely didn't smell right and Cecily was going to get to the bottom of it. Ahsoka jolts upwards after a kick to the futon shakes her body. "You've got your wish, we're heading out."

"How? The trail is cold." Ahsoka is happy to finally get back into action, though she didn't want it have it all be for nought.

"Mykle warmed it up for us. I'm not sure he's reaching the right conclusions, we have to verify them before he does something stupid."

"Funny, that's what Anakin used to say."

"You've known Mykle long enough to know practically everyone he's ever met said that at least once." Cecily tossed on a coat and faced the frigid air, feeling remorseful Ahsoka didn't have much prepared in winter attire.

"I know this is an... odd question." Cecily tries mightily to ask this question as delicately as she can. Ahsoka looks interested. "Do your montrals possess any heating capabilities?" Briefly aghast at the ignorance, Ahsoka breathed and answered the Ferroan as calmly as she could only.

"No." She tells her. "These help me sense your presence even when behind me." A noticeable fire in her blue eyes lit for the briefest second before returning to her stoic emotional state

"I'm sorry." Cecily owning up to her risky words. "You know you don't have to be so rigid with me." She tells her. "You're nowhere near a Jedi."

"This isn't an act." Ahsoka explains.

"Really? Most sixteen-year olds don't shove down their emotions. Especially those who've just been framed for murder."

"Just tell me where are we going?" Ahsoka pestered, making Cecily relent.

"Following Mykle's footsteps. We're hitting the warehouse in Follett." Cecily could tell Ahsoka was kept in the dark and did not understand a word that was just said. "Mykle told me to keep you out of the loop." Cecily confesses. "Said you'd be too much of a risk."

"Oh, like he isn't?!" Ahsoka disliked Mykle's macho, one-man army act. "He's an idiot."

"Yes, but up until know he was right." She tells her.

"So then why am I allowed out now." She asks rhetorically. Of course, Cecily couldn't keep Ahsoka locked up for long even if she tried.

"Because I... i... uh, think he's an idiot." Cecily hated to admit Ahsoka's sentiments about Mykle were correct. "He means well, but he lets his emotions get the best of him."

"That's why he isn't in the Jedi Order anymore." Ahsoka piles on.

"Be that as it may, he's one of the only few friends actually trying to help you." Cecily reminds Ahsoka. "And he didn't have to."

Cecily knew all too well the falling out Mykle had with not just Anakin. The relationship with his Padawan was on thin ice ready to rupture at any moment. It wasn't clear to Ahsoka how cautiously Mykle approached even speaking to his former friend. He walked on eggshells, not eager to reopen still fresh wounds.

"I know you guys aren't friends anymore, but he still cares about you and the Jedi. That's why he's running around the city searching for proof against the chancellor."

"I know." She knew, but still thought Mykle was insane. Meeting the chancellor a couple times, Ahsoka didn't detect any dark energy from him. Sure, he was cold and seemed to dismiss her entirely. He also got along famously with Anakin, who'd vouch for him no matter what.

"We're here."

Opening up the garage they saw the barrels of nanotechnology Mykle had shown Cecily had vanished, the warehouse looked like a generic workplace designed for durasteel manufacturing. "I don't understand." Cecily thought for a moment they've went to the wrong address. It's only been two-days since Mykle's last been here.

"You think Mykle's friend had something to do with this?" Ahsoka wonders.

"I wouldn't be surprised. Search the place, see if we can find remnants of what was here Mijo wasn't able to scrub out."

They opened every crate and found only parts for harmless protocol droids. The parts appeared rusted, beyond useless to the naked eye. "Someone must've hastily thrown together this farce." Ahsoka put together fairly quick.

"Ahsoka!" Cecily screeched, unable to contain her distress. "Come quick." Rushing to the other side of the warehouse, Ahsoka sees Cecily unable to detach her gaze to the floor.

"What is it?" Her blue eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Barriss?" She hoped against hope her eyes are deceiving her. Her friend remain motionless, she tried mightily to shake her awake, her voice quivering more and more "Het up!" She repeats.

"She's gone, Ahsoka." Cecily finally mustered to say.

"Who could have done this?"

"It looks like her chest was slashed with a lightsaber."

"Maybe Mykle was right and Ventress was the one behind this all along." Ahsoka believed for a moment her rival had turned over a new leaf. Recent events showed her she was foolish to believe someone so vile could possibly change.

"I don't know, Ahsoka." Cecily interjects. "Something about this seems so out of place. Why is Barriss here in the first place?" Cecily took the initiative searching Barriss' body for any clues. "Her lightsabers are warm... she was slain most likely through combat." She summarized. "Ahsoka, go up to the second floor, there's a room you can view the security camera recordings."

Ahsoka came back soon after to tell Cecily the recordings were nonexistent, though she did find footage of Mykle and Mijo searching the place.

"None of this adds up." Cecily runs the equation in her mind over and over, coming to a jumbled and incoherent result each time. It gave her a headache.

"Do you think Barriss had something to do with this?" Ahsoka asks.

"At this point I don't know if she was a co-conspirator or she was trying to help clear your name." Cecily told her. Ahsoka took her place searching Barriss' body finding remnants of nano-droids littered across her tunic.

"May have been the former." It pains Ahsoka to say that's the likeliest outcome. How could have Barriss done something so cruel? So blackhearted. This wasn't how Barriss was taught in the Jedi Order and certainly never gave off the vibes she was capable of such horrific acts.

"We need to get to the bottom of this." Ahsoka tells Cecily, taking control of the mission from here on out. "I need to know now whether Barriss set me up."

"So while Mykle tries to clear your name, you're seeking to clear the name of your recently deceased friend? This is all counterproductive." Cecily tells her there are better, more useful ways to spend resources.

"Barriss couldn't have done this." She entered the strong state of denial. "She's my friend. She couldn't have done this."

Meanwhile, Cecily tried reaching Mykle via com-link numerous times getting ignored at every turn.

"Well right now I don't think you'll find out who did it. Let's get out of here before someone comes by. We already have one idiot searching for Ventress." Cecily mutters under her breath, she didn't know why. It caught Ahsoka's attention, and Cecily knew she just made things worse. "I mean-"

"Ventress is the one behind this!" The nonexistent puzzle pieces began to fall in place for Ahsoka. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Obviously because she isn't!" Cecily retorts. "If Ventress was some sort of puppet master it means she's still Dooku's pawn. I know the Sith are conniving, but they aren't three-dimensional chess players." This did a lot to talk Ahsoka off the ledge and from doing something rash. If only the same could have been said for Mykle.

But they were not fast enough in evacuating. Republican troopers smashed through the doors surrounding the two women and holding them at gunpoint. Before Ahsoka or Cecily could plead their case a stunning bolt hit them both and they fell into unconsciousness. Anakin walked forward, chastising his men for using unnecessary force.

"We're sorry, sir. Chancellor's orders." The leader of the small band of troops explained, though it didn't satisfy Skywalker.

"When you are under my command my word is final. I will take the heat." But there's more important issues to address. He's noticed however the growing disobedience of his own men, claiming to solely follow the orders of the chancellor.

"You're talking about revolution?" Mykle wanted to be sure he had heard correctly. Mijo stood proudly above the assorted weapons spread out on multiple tables.

"Only way you get sustainable change is with blood. I'm surprised you of all people haven't learned this." Mijo no longer spoke in the jovial, somewhat absent minded tone of someone seeking a distraction from a traumatic event. Mijo carries himself now with a nice amount of bravado, especially when holding a gun in hand.

"There's something different about you." Mykle couldn't resist saying aloud.

"A surge of confidence." Mijo stated. "It's time to overthrow the old ways and give these people actual help. Judging by your non stop fidgeting I can assume you have your doubts."

"I don't want anything to do with this." Mykle tells him point blank. Shocking even himself with how straightforward he managed to be. "I have my own issues."

"Right." Mijo shook his head. "Chasing monsters and playing detective is a far better way to spend your time." Mykle began to walk away, happy enough to wash his hands of this entire ordeal. He's been used, that he can live with as long as he managed to walk away at the right time.

"Whoa whoa!" Mijo chases after Mykle, acting as a barrier keeping him from the exit. "Listen, I need you. If you don't want to be on the front lines I get that, but how about you do just one more thing for me. I'll pay you."

"Get out of my way, Mijo. You played me for a sap already." Mijo's eyes widened at the accusation.

"I'm offended." He says, feigning heartbreak. Mykle's seen this act before, he wasn't about to fall for it again.

"Get out of my way." Mykle tried to move Mijo out of the door frame only to receive a punch right to the gut for his troubles, sending him to the floor.

"Don't talk to me like that!" He hissed as Mykle coughed and spat. "Here, get up." Mijo switched to his more kinder tone, extending a helping hand to Mykle of which he was too proud to accept.

"If I didn't come into your life you'd already be dead from all the money you owe to the underworld." He tells him.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Mykle didn't believe Mijo when he said that.

"You work for me, I make it worth your while." He proposes.

"I don't need your money." Mykle made sure Mijo caught his emphasis on "your."

"First off: I beg to differ. Second: then do this one last favor for me and I'll swear I'll deliver Ventress to you on a silver platter."

"How about you just tell me where she is right now?" Mykle tells him, though he stared daggers into Mijo's eyes, internally he didn't want to get hit again.

"I would if I could." Mijo said, holding up his hands defensively. "Give me a little time and I promise you she will be found."

Mykle stood there, silent, pondering if his wits could get himself out of this predicament the ultimate victor. "Alright" His wit had failed him once again. Choosing to take Mijo at his word. One more job could not be so disastrous. Right?

His associates were dropping like flies. Each step he took he feared would be his last. Leo could not wipe off the thick layer of sweat on his forehead. Zhestkiy was dead and the Everett's were back into power as quick as they were dethroned. His store was burned to a hill made up of charred remains. He hasn't been home since and assumed it's suffered the same fate. Living out of his speeder under the canopy, Leo yearned for the comfort of a typical bed and a decent latrine, having to relieve himself on public streets. Splurging for a modest motel room Leo for a brief moment was calm even though he was no longer in motion.

Rushing to close the shades to his widescreen window, Leo turns to take in just how much a couple of credits could afford him in luxury. The sheets hadn't even been changed. Drool - or what he hoped was drool - stained a good chunk of the bed and the wallpaper was in the middle of peeling completely off.

"Should've just stayed in the car."

"Yes you should have." Leo turns around drawing out his pistol and fired three shots through the window and purple curtains. His hands shaking.

"Who's there?" He asks, only just coming to the realization he should have done that before.

His arms are caught in a bind and hold over his head. Mykle stands over him look cold, almost trying not to think about what he's about to do. "You set up the attack on the hanger bay." Mykle delivers a kick to the ribs for emphasis. "You framed a Jedi."

"Oh, geez if I had only known!" Leo laughs whilst coughing heavily.

"You've caused me a lot of grief." Mykle picks up Leo by the collar. "And you're going down."

"What are you going to do, kill-" A gunshot to the chest answered his question for him, Leo fell on the sleazy carpet, his raggedy white dress shirt becoming reddened by the ever pulsating amount of blood.

Mykle's taken a life before this moment. He's seen it done many times. He knows Leo deserves a worse fate than a dignified, painless death. But the universe is better off without him.

"You did it? Good news, I've found Ventress."

Mykle would never make it as a Jedi. The action of revenge tasted too sweet.

As a youngster Mykle thought he'd enjoy the life of a bounty hunter. The glamorized version courtesy of the holonet made the lifestyle look so fulfilling. As his wishful optimism dissipated with each passing day the Mykle Briggs stranded on Lianos grew into a cynic aware you only prove your worth by fattening your own pockets. The Jedi taught him loyalty, his humble roots introduced Mykle to a world not so black and white.

He sat idle in the park on a rusted bench, between the trees - he's seen too much entertainment to know his current position risked being assassinated so this provided sufficient obstruction of view for potential snippers. His master always thought he was paranoid thinking this deeply about the mundane details. "You're one in a million" she'd always tell him for him to keep his perspective. It usually fell on deaf ears. Mykle grew up around megalomaniacs, it infected him like a disease.

It was wintertime but the trees still carried their leaves. What made this park special before besmirchers polluted it with their trash, it was the only area on Coruscant to possess abnormally large pine trees. Up to 100 feet, it blocked out most of the sun.

But Mykle wasn't here to take in the sight, he was never keen on finding a place solely to think. He waited and waited for his bounty hunter to become the hunted. Could he successfully take down Asajj Ventress, the famed, recently outcast Sith apprentice? Probably not. While Ahsoka had delusions of grandeur, Mykle took pride in being the most grounded one in the group. He knew when a fight wasn't winnable, aware of his strengths and many weaknesses.

He had a plan. A good one too, to say so himself.

There she stood a good distance from where he sat, her scarred bald skull is noticeable to just about anyone. She took the briefest of moments to adjust her mask, it was enough time for him to spot her most recognizable feature. She looked so grey, Mykle wondered if she was deathly ill the first time they've crossed paths.

It was just them now in the park. Ventress has him in her sights. Luckily, Mykle didn't plan to use the element of surprise. He elected to take a more direct approach.

"It's been a long time." Ventress sounded like she was conversing with an old friend at a school reunion.

"Not long enough." Mykle said, trying to sound clever. Even he didn't know what he meant by this. "You may no longer be a Sith, but you're just as wicked as before."

"Oh, really?" As if Ventress cared. "And what have I done now?"

"You know what you did." She shakes her head. He knew she was inviting him to let loose his rage, he rejected it as best he could.

"I've killed many Jedi and you think you stand a chance against me?" The whole notion caused Ventress to let out a hearty laugh, an uncharacteristic one too. Nonetheless, she ignited both her blood red lightsabers in anticipation. "I've been itching for some action anyway."

Mykle smirked, happy as can be to hear Ventress say that. With a simple press of a button the two blades flew out of her hands and were shot to smithereens. "Like big giant magnets." Mykle explains. "If we are to fight, I want it on my terms." Ventress took this to mean no Jedi weapons and this included the Force. There was a silence that made Mykle feel comfortable, whilst giving the feeling of eeriness to the hardened Sith. She allowed herself to be put in a disadvantage and she lost her trusted weapons because of her inability to pay attention to detail.

Mykle began first, his over ambitious swing missed cleanly allowing for Ventress to deliver the swift counter to his jaw. To his credit, Mykle didn't land flat on his back, rather he ducked her follow up attempt and returned the favor. Just like Ahsoka Ventress practiced an all offense style that left little to the imagination in regards to defense. Brilliant. It's exactly what Mykle was hoping for.

Mykle noticed Ventress' lip was already busted open. That couldn't have been him. He wasn't that strong. "Someone fight you before me?" He asks.

"Your old friend Skywalker gave me this beauty." Ventress hisses before lifting Mykle off the ground beginning to close his throat. "Bet you wish the Force was still with you!" She took smug satisfaction in her quip. Shame the only person who heard it would soon be dead.

A small hunting knife slide down Mykle's wrist seamlessly into his palms, flinging it at Ventress barley grazing her cheek. She relinquished her grip on him and delivered a good kick to her torso to send her reeling. She wipes the little bit of blood squeezed out of her left cheek. "Good" She complimented. "Can't say I've ever been bested by a non-Force sensitive. This won't be that time." She reiterated.

"I don't think so." His jab attempts easily blocked, countering with an uppercut and a roundhouse kick to his chest putting him flat on his back. Asajj stands over him, her facial expressions conveying she means business.

Undaunted, Mykle smirks again pressing another button, two trees fell on top of Ventress who was too slow to make up for being taken off-guard. Picking himself up, he didn't hear a peep from Ventress under the twin trunks laying parallel to each other.

"Mijo... it's done." He called him to let him know their partnership was terminated. "Thank you for your help, from now on we're on our own."

"You've done a lot of good for the galaxy, Mykle. I can't let you traverse this treacherous universe without protection. Meet me at the docks in MoMet."

"I don't need any protection." Mykle rejects him.

"Just let me have a good clear conscious. How about I throw in some money for your troubles?" Mykle hesitated for a brief time, then accepted the offer.

"Okay. See you there."

Flying back to the Jedi Temple where Ahsoka would be locked up in a prison cell, but no alone this time, Anakin continued to hold his reservations at the fishy accusations levied at his Padawan. Shockingly, Plo Koon wasn't so on the fence. To him, Ahsoka was guilty. "The evidence is too overwhelming." He confessed

"How can you say that so callously?" Anakin erupted into a mild fervor.

"You have to learn to let go of your attachments." Koon tells him, a bit condescendingly. Sighing, Anakin knew Koon was right.

"Ahsoka looks up to you. I don't care what the evidence says, you have to at least give her a chance to clear herself." He tells the elder master.

"Then why did she run?" That question Anakin had no answer for and it gnawed at him inside. In a flash their left-wing blew to smithereens, the carrier craft the two flown in with Ahsoka and Cecily still unconscious, flipped over to compensate for being so uneven, each of the Jedi grabbing one of the prisoners to keep them from falling to their assumed death.

"Land Rex!" Anakin could barely muster and envision the difficulties of doing so under such pressing circumstances. How can anyone land an aircraft missing an entire wing?

"The controls are locked!" Rex bellowed, before the aircraft tipped completely over landing roughly on its scarred rudder not before the Jedi are able to pull the prisoners back into flatbed of the ship, Anakin quickly wrapped his arms around Ahsoka's limp body to shield her from the impact.

Ahsoka began to stir only after the impact, her eyes slowly opening and then coughing from the ash snaking its way into her lungs. "Master?" Becoming aware she was being held captive, she did not panic, she only gave Skywalker a disappointed glare.

"Why couldn't you just trust me?" She asks wryly.

"Ahsoka I'm sorry, but this was the only way." Now he was the one sounding like the student lacking in vision.

"There's always another way." She fought mightily, but could not overcome the feeling of her body being taken back to unconsciousness. She'd taken a vicious hit to the head and Anakin knew how sensitive those Togruta montrals can be.

"Hello?" Mykle's com-link would not stop ringing. He declined numerous calls, whomever that's trying to reach him remained persistent. His gruffly greets the caller, his tone telling him this better be worth my time.

"Yo, I've heard Mijo had you clean up his mess?" Turns out it was Chester.

"He angered quite a few people, fortunately they're dead or have been ran out of town. Don't worry." Mykle replies.

"Word on the street is Mijo has some big plans." Fearing he'd drag Cecily's brother into the mess, Mykle didn't want to use any terms that could potentially invite Chester down into the darkness.

"I have nothing to do that." He tells Chester coldly, itching for a window to hang up.

"You better watch yourself. The second he has no more use for you-"

"I'm not working for him." Mykle clarifies. "I'm merely picking something up."

"Where?"

"By the docks."

"I know the one. See ya there." Before Mykle could kindly tell Chester to stay away, the line went dead. Knowing Chester was too stubborn to listen to reason Mykle accepted he'd have some company for this little meeting.

In an hour they were both at the docks, surrounded by outdated starfighters destined to be stripped down for scrap-metal. Most of the street lights didn't even work, so Mykle could barely make out it was Chester standing in front of him.

"Have to have sharp eyes, eh?" Mykle laughs after nearly bumping into Chester.

"Keep them open." Chester advises before taking cover behind a cement mixer.

Standing under the one street light that partially worked, it flickered on and off, Mykle seen Mijo standing directly across from him looking shabby in how he was dressed, his shirt roughly untucked and noticeably stained. His pants hung from his hips, Mykle noticed now Mijo was too skinny for someone of his body type.

"Mykle I'm glad you could make it." Mijo stood still rather than walk over to extend his hand.

"Yes. What is it you wanted to show me?" Mykle asks wanting to hurry this up.

"I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am for your assistance. You've gone above and beyond for me." Mijo tells him there is more work available if he is interested, Mykle tells him he is not.

"I believe our business relationship ends here. If so? I want to ask you some questions." Mijo was starting to unsettle Mykle, who cautiously stepped forward.

"Okay"

"Do you remember me at all from the Jedi Temple." Mijo asks.

"No." Mykle answers truthfully. "But I kept to myself mostly."

"So you don't remember we served together a couple times during the war?"

"Perhaps we did." Mykle summarizes there are countless fronts the Republic opens up in some cases they were bound to share a space without knowing it.

"But you remember my master?" Mijo asks, Mykle nods.

"The only other Jedi Master I've seen die was my teacher. I can't forget him even if I tried."

"That's good." Mijo wanted to be sure of this. "You remember how he died?"

"We're charging up C.I.S strongpoint on my home planet. As we scaled the mountainside a swift hail of blaster fire rained on us. I took the lead while he watched my rear..." Mykle stopped himself in hopes he wouldn't have to tell the entire story.

"And?"

"Blocking the blaster fire I lost concentration, I cut the cable supporting a AT-TE Walker and..." He has to stop for he was risking succumbing in tears at the recollection.

"Killed him and twelve other men." Mijo says without issue. Ashamed, Mykle nods.

"I tried to save him, I really did. It was my mistake and I am sorry from the bottom of my heart." Mykle tells him, filled with sorrow.

"Doesn't change the fact that your negligence altered the life of not just you." Mijo said.

"What do you mean?"

"Like you, I too did not have many allies in the Jedi Order. My master was my sole supporter. When I lost him the Jedi lost interest in me."

"I can relate." Mykle says somberly.

"You ruined my career and left me without a home."

"I am very sorry." Mykle said once again, feeling immense guilt for his screwup.

"Sorry doesn't change the fact that I am without a home!" Mijo actually scared Mykle a little bit. He is used to being chewed out by people. But this particular situation was special. Mykle knows he's in the wrong party and didn't deserve any sympathy.

"If there's a way I can-"

"While you ran around Coruscant playing investigator I came to the conclusion... what-if I put your skills to better use."

"What?" Mijo shoots Mykle, his one shot running through his abdomen sending him tumbling down cradling his wound which already began to bleed. Before Mykle could ask why, Mijo began to speak again.

"The Jedi are blinded by their own sycophantic love for each other they fail to see the error in their ways. For all your bluster, you could not see it was me who framed Ahsoka for the murder of Leta. It was me who had you round up the weapons necessary to fire Republican aircraft out of the sky and blame the Bonus Army. You've done my work and left me blameless." Mijo, for emphasis, tosses Mykle a data card . "That's the recordings from the warehouse. Since you're going to die here, I figure it's best to tell you Asajj Ventress had nothing to do with the hanger bay bombing. It was me. I merely altered the video from previous time she happened to be there."

"Those weapons you got for me, I didn't give them to the Credit Army." Mijo also confesses. "I gave them to hundreds of C.I.S droids i personally deprogrammed."

"But why?" Mykle couldn't understand his method to all the madness.

"Sowing discontent. Sow enough, the Republic will give its powers up on a whim. Sow more, they'll eat one another." Bewildered, Mykle became distraught at how he had been used and didn't see it.

"You lied me?" Mykle tried to get back up, at this point his legs were jello and could not move.

"But don't feel too bad. You weren't the only one I used. Barriss helped me orchestrate the bombing and was with me until she learned I made it so Ahsoka took the fall."

"She-" Mykle coughs up specs of blood, unable to speak.

"Had a change of heart, yes. But by then, she outlived her usefulness. Just like you."

"You think you're going to get away with this?" Mykle said as if he had a grand plan to thwart Mijo, when he really didn't. Mykle was played like a fiddle. Plain and simple.

"You're far too trusting." Mijo smiles as he cocks back his blaster ready to Deal the final blow. "Thanks for your help." Mykle closed his eye expecting the end, hearing a shot ring out through the entire area he didn't feel a thing on his already wounded body. Mykle saw his body did not gain a new wound. Worried it was his vision deceiving him, Mykle looked up to see Mijo laying motionless across from him as smoke escaped the hole in his chest. Chester stood over Mykle, his face conveying he couldn't believe what he had done.

"I... I did it." Chester couldn't believe he actually fired a clean, straightforward shot.

"No joke, I owe you!" Mykle coughs. Reaching out he grabs the data card Mijo threw at his feet and observes it. "Mijo lied to me... Ventress had nothing to do with the framing of Ahsoka and those people he had me kill at best had little to do with the bombing - besides Leo."

Startled at the revelation, Chester came off his high of self confidence and pondered their next move. "So what now?" The Jedi wouldn't believe they had substantial evidence to swing the case that'll prove Ahsoka's innocence. They couldn't go to the crooked police department. Only one place remained.

"I have an idea." Chester helps Mykle back to his feet. He instantly crumbles, he feels his wound opening. "But first I really need medical attention."

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It took a mighty amount of convincing - as Mykle's rolodex of connections didn't include those in the media - but they finally were lent the ear of the executive producer. A disheveled man, apparently overworked as it is and it's easy to notice he dealt with the stress by overindulging in sugar and salt. "This is something the entire Galactic Republic needs to see." A recently bandaged Mykle said, in the back of his mind hoping the wraps can quell the bleeding so he would not black out.

At first, the producer seemed disinterested, but was willing to give Mykle "five minutes." That's all Mykle needed, he popped in the data card and watched the evidence play out. A slender, but tall womanly figure came into the picture. Mykle noticed it was Barriss Offee, one of Ahsoka's friends. He talked to her once or twice and didn't really know anything about her other than she was a prodigy.

"This get interesting anytime soon?" The producer did a "get on with it" hand motion gesture. Mykle told him to be patient.

Barriss opened up one crate to see the nanotechnology perfectly placed inside. By the look of the tape she tries to contact the Jedi, only to receive a fatale slash to the chest for her troubles courtesy of Mijo. Mykle shakes his head. So many bloodshed, all needless, only serving to prove a petty point and to have the Jedi lose the battle in public relations.

Only up until this point it's worked. The Jedi were viewed as pariah for turning on their end so swiftly, sacrificing all of the capital they've gained from the hanger bay bombing. The Jedi came across as treacherous, aloof religious loonies.

Fire engulfed numerous street blocs and yet here Ahsoka and Cecily were locked inside a prison cell, all of the noise of the chaos the outside world had to offer almost nonexistent.

"I thought the Republic treated their inmates better than this. I haven't eaten in hours." Cecily complained. Finding an inane topic of conversation beat dwelling on their utterly bleak current situation.

"Only for POWs." Ahsoka tells her. "Wait, isn't this your first time in a prison?" Ahsoka couldn't have dreamed a poindexter like Cecily would have compiled a criminal record.

"Once before, as an inmate in a C.I.S internment camp. As part of the Separatists occupation of Lianos." Cecily remembers that time when everything oddly felt so simple, compared to now. Sparring Ahsoka from anymore moral dilemmas, she did not bring up the fact the soulless droids at least brought their prisoners one square meal a day (in case for the children, two square meals).

"Tano" Ahsoka picked up her head from her knees, hiding the fact she's been quietly crying this whole time. "You have a visitor." She didn't have to wait long to find out it was the esteemed senator from Naboo.

"Padme?" Ahsoka hadn't seen Mrs. Amidala for months, she worried her eyes deceived her.

"I've missed you, Ahsoka." Padme confesses, rushing to hug the closest thing she's had to a sister. "It goes without saying that I wish it were under better circumstances."

"I'm real happy you're here, means a lot to have you by my side." Padme assures Ahsoka she'll fight hard for her and won't let the judicial system lock her up for a crime they have only circumstantial evidence of her committing. Ahsoka looks to her side, seeing Cecily happy that she is receiving proper representation. On the other hand, Cecily isn't so fortunate.

"Uhh..." Ahsoka clears her throat. "Padme, this is Cecily. A friend of mine I recently met. She doesn't have a lawyer for her day in court." Padme didn't need anymore hints. She could tell Cecily was of a good heart and like Ahsoka was unjustly dragged into this.

"Any friend of Ahsoka's is a friend of mine."

The footage hit the news cycle like an asteroid. Instantly gaining the attention of the average citizen, swaying public opinion towards believing the claim the Jedi was indeed framed to having validity. Mykle's plan to simply not rush to the Jedi Temple, somehow be granted the presence of the judge overseeing Ahsoka's trial, worked in spades.

His plan also had unintended consequences. The Jedi were already on thin ice with the people. The fact they let one of their own swing and seemingly went out of their way to punish her threw a grenade into whatever equity they had left with the public.

Mykle told Chester it's best they don't remain at the station and find themselves a quiet place to lay low. Knowing he's angered a lot of people during his shenanigans, it wouldn't be long until he earned a blaster bolt to the head for his troubles.

"What's wrong, Mike?" Chester noticed Mykle hadn't spoke in a while, only lighting a death stick, something he usually does when on edge.

"Nothing." Mykle lies, taking one big breathe of the sweet nicotine, coughing up a lung as a result. "You think she'll appreciate this?" Mykle asks, solely out of vulnerability. He speaks so quietly he hopes Chester did not hear.

"Appreciate?" Chester scoffs. "She'll love you for this!" He assures him. "You've done everything possible to clear Ahsoka's name."

"Love" Mykle thought, trying not to trick himself into falling into the same traps he did before. "Love" he said aloud this time. "A forbidden emotion in the Jedi Order. Said it'll lead to illogical decision making and make a pathway to the Dark Side." Mykle remembers Master Yoda's lone words of advice to him well.

"You don't believe that do you?" Chester knew Mykle as a bit of a closeted romantic before he left Lianos for good.

"If I did, I'd likely still be there." Mykle confesses. "I could never buy in fully."

"Buy in?" Chester didn't understand.

"I came to the Jedi because I wanted to see the stars. I never thought about the complexities of their religious ways." Chester nods knowing all too well.

"That and many people wanted you dead." Chester chuckles. "How things fail to change even in the slightest."

"I took my friends' place. None of this was meant to be mine."

"He would have wanted you here. If he couldn't convince the Jedi to let you come aboard as yourself, he'd pull the strings necessary to have you in the Agricorps."

"That's exactly where I needed to be" Mykle shakes his head "planting seeds and working farms."

"The Force is all about getting closer to nature." Chester apparently knew more about the Force than Mykle.

"You would have made for a good Jedi." As Mykle said that, he was torn whether he meant that as a compliment on Chester's knowledge and openness, or as a negative for his lack of critical thinking towards such a rigid lifestyle. "I still have his lightsaber, you know?" Mykle figured it was best to change the subject.

"He would have wanted you to have it." Chester could sense Mykle's growing discontent.

"What's wrong?"

"I came to Coruscant for a fresh start. A little over a year later I'm in the same mess I was in back home. I squandered my second chance. I've lost friends and worse, I cost them their safety."

"We're never save, Mykle, you should know that." Chester tells him whole-heartedly.

"I lied to Ahsoka and lost..." Mykle was about to allude to the fact he held feelings towards her, but thought better of it. "Never mind." He continues. "Elias... he had it all together. I wanted to be like him so bad."

"You've learned even Elias didn't have it so easy." Chester puts simply.

"Yes."

"It's hard work getting your life together."

"All too much."

News got around fast of Ahsoka's innocence, hitting the courts during proceedings like a tidal wave in a small town near the coast. Nothing was left for the prosecution, hastily they tried to rebuild their case only for it to fall like a house of wet cards. Within the hour Ahsoka and Cecily were cleared of all charges. Cecily was sent home, Ahsoka elected to stay behind.

"Are you really going to stay with them?" Cecily spoke scornfully. "After what they did." Ahsoka took a long look at the Jedi Temple standing in its glory as the sun set.

"This was the only place I've ever known... my home."

"Home is where your heart is." Cecily told her. "It's where the people you love and love you are. Can you honestly believe a place that defines the emotion of love as forbidden 'home'?"

"The Jedi are my life." Ahsoka resisted the temptation to give into her anger at someone ridiculing her dear Jedi Code. "This is my life."

Sighing, Cecily knew only one person knew what is best for Ahsoka. "Just know you always have someone to turn to in times of need with me and Mykle." Cecily tried to leave Ahsoka on the best of terms. Knowing she needed time to think by herself.

"Ahsoka, the Jedi Council wants to see you." Anakin went after her shortly after Cecily departed. "They want both of us."

"Master, I-" Ahsoka tried to talk to Anakin like a friend. Albeit, she couldn't blame him for not taking her hint since she greeted him formally.

"We really need to get going." He pestered, ushering her to his side. It was like she was being marched into the principal's office. Except it was the Jedi Council doing wrong. Why did Ahsoka owe them a visit?

Anakin didn't say two words during the walk to the Jedi Council. All he wanted was to talk to his pupil like nothing had happened. Yet, he felt cold and would shiver whenever he tried to muster up a word to say. Before they entered the Jedi Council room, Anakin made a quick apology to Ahsoka for not trusting her.

"It's alright." She'd say. But it wasn't alright. Something bitter stewed in the pit of her stomach and it just reached the breaking point.

The Jedi Masters encircled her, their eyes all focused on her comparably diminutive stature. If Ahsoka were to sit on one of those chairs herself, she wasn't sure her feet would touch the ground. The Jedi did most of the talking - it is considered uncouth to speak out of turn, unless you are a Jedi Knight. Master Yoda expressed regret at how events transpired, even apologizing for his inability to see Ahsoka was in fact innocent. Plo Koon remains silent, the only one unable to look directly at her.

"We realize now this was a test of your loyalty to the Jedi and your strength in the Force. Safe to say, you passed." Shaak Ti, a Togruta like Ahsoka, same skin color, only longer montrals because of her more senior age.

"We're asking you back, Ahsoka." Anakin simplified.

"We like to bestow upon you the rank of Knight." Mace Windu added.

"I don't know what to say." She truly didn't. Her life's ambition an arms reach away. All she had to do was grab it.

"I'm very proud of you Ahsoka." Anakin tells her, holding out his hand holding her Padawan braid which had been roughly tugged off of her not so long ago after the Jedi hastily pronounced her guilt and turned her over to the Republic. Everything would return to normal if she accepts Anakin's hand.

"So you think she'll do it?" Mykle packed his bags, once again planning on leaving Coruscant. Cecily had the same idea, except they couldn't go to the same place. Another planet they have effectively ran themselves out of.

"I don't know. She seemed torn."

"One of the best features of being a Jedi is they taught you how to sense emotions embedded deep in somebody. I could sense every doubt and insecurity in any weak-minded individual." Mykle hadn't used the power in so long it was a great boredom killing tool.

"So what am I thinking? Cecily asked, never knowing the Jedi before had this ability. Putting his index fingers to his temples, rubbing in a clockwise motion.

"You're worries how you'll get around without me." Mykle breaks out a smug grin. Cecily responds by toss Mykle a pair of his dirty underwear he meant to wash.

"I'll get around just fine without you getting in trouble every second."

A knock on the door disrupted the banter the two were engaging in. They exchanged a brief look, Mykle peaked through the window hiding all of himself through the blacker than the dirtiest coal curtains. It was Ahsoka. Standing alone, shivering in the light mist. Without saying a word he rushes down the stairs and opens the door.

"Ahsoka." He made sure his eyes wasn't deceiving him. She really was standing there. He noticed there wasn't a braid on her montrals.

"I... I..." She fought off the urge to give into emotions once more, this time resisting the tears threatening to escape her. "Left the Order." Mykle couldn't believe you. He tells her to come inside.

"I don't know what to say," he confesses "You've lived in the Jedi Order for so long. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know!" She says.

"You can go with me?" Mykle offers. "I have friends that can give you work fixing speeders and starships." She looks at Mykle checking if he was indeed seriously offering this.

"You would do all of that?" Mykle nods.

"I know we've had a falling out. But you're my friend, I can't let you live on the streets." He got up and signaled to her he was about to wrap her up in a tender embrace. She didn't reciprocate, leaving Mykle to stand awkwardly his arms stretched out. He did this for a bit for comedic effect, despite not making her laugh.

"I gotta go get an extra ticket." Nonetheless, Mykle was giddy he's ever been. He was reunited with his best friend. Even though he was far from having her reciprocate his more profound feelings for her, he just wanted to be on her good side again.

When he left, Cecily made her presence known soon after. She would have come down sooner, but wanted Mykle to have one-on-one time with Ahsoka.

"So why didn't you-"

"I am not ready to talk about it." Ahsoka said. The wound still fresh.

"But you feel you're ready to go off with Mykle and start a new life?" Cecily questioned.

"At this point I don't know what I am ready for." She shows her growing insecurities, wrapping herself up in her arms.

"You have someone waiting for you." Cecily reminds Ahsoka.

Mykle stood with Ahsoka's ticket in his hand. For once his palms weren't a sweaty mess. He was happier than he can remember, waiting eagerly for Ahsoka to show up and for them to start the next chapter in their respective lives. Believing maybe, just maybe, he'd finally be able to break through her exterior and here the words he's always wanted to hear her say.

He loves her. Always has. For once he felt confident in the fact she did too. The rain continues to fall, growing stronger. But he knew Ahsoka would make it to the station to be with him. If he had, he'd wait here all night for her.


End file.
